


Witnesses

by Toshua



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Death penalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshua/pseuds/Toshua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story deals with a difficult part of the justice system.  Jim is asked to bear witness at an execution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Witnesses

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published in the 'Virtual Season' episodes in 2001 and then uploaded to 852 Prospect Place.

Simon Banks stared at the block letters on the two-page letter included in a memo from the state Attorney General's office. He couldn't just ignore it. Things like ignoring requests from the Attorney General had a way of biting you in the butt somewhere down the line. But it wasn't his place to reply to this particular request. Without shifting his eyes from the various pages he keyed the intercom and asked Rhonda to go find Ellison. 

* * *

Ellison looked up from the break room table when Rhonda came through the door. He'd finally managed to find a few minutes for a little solitude and a soda. Neither one lasted very long as Rhonda passed on the captain's summons. 

Jim opened the inner office door and let himself in without announcing himself. He continued munching on his pretzels while he waited for Simon to get off the phone. He sat down when Simon motioned him to and took a thick document when Simon handed it to him. 

Jim skimmed the memo -- glanced at the handwritten pages, then met his captain's brown eyes. "Is this for real? The AG thinks this is a good idea?" 

"Read the letter, Jim," Simon stated softly. 

Jim went back to the letter, his eyes flying over the block script. It looked like a child's writing, or maybe a teenager, trying to be neat. 

_Detective Ellison:_

_You don't know me and really don't have any reason to remember me. I was just a kid when you helped convict my father's killer. I'm told that the man who killed my father is being executed in Texas in a few days. As a family member of the victim, I am entitled to witness the execution. But I can't go. Mom says we can't afford it, and I'm too young to see something like this. I'm twelve now. I have tried to get some friends to help me buy 2 plane tickets but it's not happening. Plus, Mom cries every time we get another letter from Texas. I don't think she can take seeing an execution._

_The Texas lawyer says we can ask a friend to go in our place. Mom says we don't have any friends who will do that for us. Can you help?_

_You must wonder why I want to see the execution. I don't want to see someone die. I really don't. But if I know he's gone, maybe I won't have nightmares anymore. And Mom will stop crying._

_Thank you._

_Pamela Lee_

Jim looked up from the letter, his heart tightening painfully over the words of a twelve-year-old girl. "According to the memo, that case happened right after I joined Major Crime." He sighed. "It's real vague." He shook his head. "I don't really remember it." 

Simon nodded. "I don't either. You'll have to pull some files and see if it comes back to you. Jim, I can't ask you to do this. But that phone call was the State AG's office. They are very pleased that the State of Washington will be represented for the final resolution of this prisoner." Simon took the letter from Jim's hand and looked at the neat writing again. "This letter went all the way to the capitol before it landed here. Guess it tugged a few heartstrings there too." 

* * *

Jim looked at the ceiling, blowing air through his lips. He finally looked at Simon again. "Texas. It's been a long time since I passed through that area of the country." He stood up and paced around the room, stretching his back. "What happens if I refuse?" 

Simon shook his head. "We'll have to answer that little girl's letter and explain why." 

"You mean I'll have to answer it." Jim looked out the window, squinting at the sun. "How long do I have to decide?" 

"Couple of hours. I need to call Texas, find out the DA in charge of the area, see what their protocol is." 

"Who pays our bills?" 

"Our bills? Jim, you aren't seriously thinking of dragging Sandburg into this, are you? He's not a cop, or involved in the case." Simon got up, went and stood next to his detective. 

"But he is my partner. And I'll need him for this." Jim's voice left no room for discussion. 

Simon sighed. "Let me call Texas, see what I can work out. But if they wouldn't pay for that mother and daughter's expenses, why do you think they'll pay yours?" 

"Because it would be the politically correct thing to do. Gives Texas some small hook on you." He headed toward the door. "While you do that, I'll go down to Records and see if I can find the case file." He snagged the official memo on his way out. 

* * *

Blair Sandburg was growling at his laptop on the dining room table, trying to convince it that a .jpg file was perfectly okay to import into a document when the phone rang. 

"Sandburg." 

_"You sound perfectly happy about life. How's the writing coming?"_

"Don't get me started. How's your day? I wasn't expecting to hear from you until I got to the station at lunch." 

_"Something came up. Pack up your laptop and get down here."_

Sandburg straightened against his chair and started hitting keys. "Okay, I can do that. What's up?" 

_"We've been requested to go to Texas."_ There was a long pause over the phone line while Jim took a breath. _"To witness an execution."_

Sandburg froze. Everything inside of him froze, including his heart and lungs. 

_"Chief? Sandburg? Blair? You still with me?"_ Ellison's voice commanded Blair's attention. 

"Yeah, I'm still here, Jim. Why us?" Blair's voice sounded weak even to himself and he tried again. "Who's being executed and why do we need to be there?" 

Jim listened to Blair's frantic heartbeat over the phone, the way the younger man was trying to control his breathing. 

_"It's an old case, Chief. One of the first operations I was involved in when I was first assigned to Major Crimes. While Jack was still alive. In fact, it's so old I need to go down to the vault and find it. It's not on the database."_

Blair's voice was rock solid over the phone line. "I'll be there in thirty minutes." The connection broke. 

Jim looked at the humming receiver. He wasn't too surprised at Sandburg's reaction. For all the years that his partner worked with him, there was still a huge list of issues they disagreed on. And the death penalty was right up there at the top. 

Jim pushed away from his desk. Time to pay a visit to the vault and look for a long-buried file. 

* * *

Jim Ellison looked up when his partner and lover strode into the bullpen with his usual swingy pace, his backpack over one shoulder. Jim had to admire the gait for a second. Sandburg wasn't tall, but he was packaged well, and in soft tight jeans and with his shirt tucked into them, he presented a lovely sight. Sentinel eyesight wasn't needed to see the outline of a cock within the jeans. Blair's easy stride across the room emphasized the movement and when Jim's eyes met his lover's, Jim knew that Sandburg knew what he was thinking and answered with a smug grin. 

"Afternoon, Jim." Blair flopped into the chair next to Jim's desk. "So, tell me about this trip." There was absolutely none of the hostility that had been evident over the phone line. 

In answer, Jim handed Sandburg a dusty file. The detective had spent the better part of an hour in records persuading a bored clerk to dig it out of a banker's box. He'd skimmed it, his memories of the case returning with a vengeance, and now he knew why Texas had asked for and been granted extradition. 

"You shouldn't look at the photos, Chief. They aren't pretty." 

"Bodies usually aren't, Jim. Don't you think I've been doing this long enough to handle some black and whites?" 

"Didn't say you couldn't handle it, Chief. I just don't think you need those images in your head." 

Sandburg nodded, and didn't open the envelope labeled 'scene photos'. He flipped through the typed pages, scanning quickly, slowed down on the court transcript and studied the closing argument in detail. After forty-five minutes, he closed the file and placed it back on Jim's desk. 

"I take it that Texas wanted this guy when we were done because of what he did there?" 

"He only killed twice here. In Texas, he killed seven that we know of. The trial tried to tie him to five more but couldn't." 

"How did you get involved in this?" Blair leaned back in the chair and crossed his right leg over his left knee, and deliberately stroked his hand up the length of his thigh, drawing Jim's eyes to his crotch. He hooked a finger in the top of his pocket. Blair smirked at Jim's enlarged pupils and flared nostrils. He was in a mood to tease his lover, and was doing it with barely concealed glee. 

Jim's sensitive nose caught the faint tint of Blair's arousal. He met the dark blue eyes with a glare that only heightened the color in Sandburg's cheeks. Obviously, trying to visibly remind Sandburg of their location wasn't going to be effective. Jim stood up and stretched, arching his back and slowly swinging his arms back and forth. His position put his ridged stomach and crotch in front of Blair and taunted him with his flexing pecs. Two could play the teasing game. 

"Why don't we catch a late lunch, Chief? I'll tell you all about it." 

Sandburg looked up at the grin spreading across Jim's features and swallowed hard, nodding. "You are going to get it, Ellison." Sandburg mumbled sotto voice. "Just wait until I get you in the truck." Blair launched to his feet and followed his partner toward the elevator, mentally telling his body to behave itself until the two of them were safely inside the moving box. 

Jim was not safe in the elevator. He and Blair were the only occupants, and as they started down to the garage level, Sandburg wound himself into Jim's space and forced the larger man into the corner. He rubbed his pelvis against Jim's with a growl. 

"You think you're so tough, don't you?" he whispered. He licked his tongue across the taut neck muscles. 

Jim wrapped his arms around his lover and sagged into the corner. "Now that you have me, what are you going to do with me? We have about 10 seconds." Jim was openly laughing. 

Blair gripped the white silk turtleneck at the shoulder seams and ground himself against Jim's body. His mouth latched onto his partner's and he rammed his tongue inside, stealing Jim's breath as he went. He fucked his lover's mouth with his tongue for a few seconds, then pulled free. 

"How long?" His teeth latched onto an earlobe and nibbled. 

"Three seconds. We're slowing for two." 

"Damn!" Blair let go as the elevator creaked to a stop. "I was just getting started." He reached down and tried to rearrange the bulge in his pants so it wasn't so visible. Jim was doing the same. 

The doors slid open and two uniforms got on, nodding politely to the detective -- leaning on a rail -- and his partner, who was braced in the far corner, ankles crossed. The journey continued downward and stopped at the garage. Ellison and Sandburg waited for the men in front of them to exit, then followed slowly. Jim jumped slightly at the pinch on his butt. He whirled and faced his laughing partner. 

"Chief, I swear, I'm going to spank you when we get home." 

Blair strutted past his blushing lover. "Promises, promises." 

Their late lunch was delayed even longer as they found a corner of a covered parking lot and proceeded to devour each other. 

* * *

"So tell me about this case." Blair dragged a French fry through catsup, then offered it to Jim. They'd found a deli a few blocks from the station and were sharing cold sandwiches, fries, and iced tea, parked in the truck in the sun. 

"Not much to tell. About six years ago, Major Crimes, in a joint effort with Narcotics, was working a pretty good size sting operation on a guy named Travis Freelow. He'd come to Cascade and set up shop right under our noses. Coke, heroin, crack, you name it, he sold it. Along the way he was taking out the competition and making a lot of enemies. Major Crime got called in when Narcotic's undercover man was made. He barely got out alive." 

"So, in a round-about way, he was helping clean up the city." 

Ellison shot his partner a glare. "Only you would put it that way." Jim bit into his club sandwich and chewed for a moment, gathering his thoughts. 

"Freelow had a pipeline straight into Mexico. We kept busting his runners and grabbing his caches, but kept missing him. He was smart, quick, and had a lot of money backing him." 

"So you went in undercover. How? You're too old to be a runner. Too smart to look like competition." Blair chewed on a fry and waited. 

"Went in as someone representing the Russian Mafia, looking for a pipeline into the US. The Mafia wanted product and was willing to pay top dollar to a front man. All Freelow had to do was make delivery when and where he was directed." 

"And when he showed up, loaded with the goodies, you were there." 

Jim nodded. "Me, Jack, half of Narcotics, most of the area uniforms, couple DEA, you name it. Smooth bust." 

"Then what happened?" 

"Teddy, one of the guys from Narcotics, and I went back to the warehouse Freelow operated out of while Jack oversaw the bust cleanup. We'd been staking it out for days, waiting for the moment. We just weren't expecting what we'd find." Jim closed his eyes, trying not to see the image that played in his brain. 

"Freelow took a lot of time making his competitors feel unwanted. We found an Asian man, strung up by his thumbs. Freelow had hamstrung him, then nicked every vein so he'd bleed to death, slowly. We were too late. There was another body, tied to a chair, bullet between the eyes. Seems a Chinese triad had tried to muscle in on Freelow's turf." Jim looked at Blair who was turning a little green. 

"After that, Homicide took over. Jack and I were asked to stay on the case because we'd been instrumental in gathering all the pieces together." 

Blair swallowed against his dry throat. "And Texas?" 

"We knew Freelow had a pipeline into Mexico, we just didn't know how. But the two executions were just like several others in Texas. With that piece of information, it didn't take long to put two and two together." 

"And four added up to a multiple murder conviction in Texas." Blair nodded to Jim. 

"Plus the drug angle. The jury convicted Freelow of multiple counts of murder. It could have been life in prison without parole but down there the jury sets the penalty." Jim glanced out the window. "I'm not sorry he got the death penalty, Chief. There are just some people who don't deserve to live." 

"Even if they never see the light of day again?" Blair whispered, touching the back of Jim's hand. 

"Even then. Even as bad as prison is, it's not sufficient punishment." Jim looked at the fingers that were stroking the back of his hand. He turned the hand over so the stroking fingers smoothed over his palm. "Blair, I know we don't agree on this issue. I'd understand completely if you don't want to go with me if I end up going. You don't need to see this." Jim's voice dropped to a whisper as he looked into the blue eyes. Blair was one of the gentlest souls he'd ever encountered. The years of working with cops had taken away the naivete and the brashness, but not the gentle soul. Every day they were together, Jim worried that something would happen that would harden that soul and dim some of the light the younger man contained. 

Silence fell between them as they finished the array of food spread out between them on the seat. 

"You weren't too happy about this when I called earlier. What turned you around?" Jim reached over and stroked a curl that had escaped the ponytail. 

"I realized that my being angry over a task assigned to you was a childish reaction. I'm your partner. I back you up while you do your cop thing. I'm also a shaman. And as shaman, I also support you in your obligations." Blair spoke solemnly, his eyes never leaving Jim's face. "Besides, I was horny and knew I wouldn't get any if I pissed you off." The face broke into a huge shit-eating grin. 

"Brat." Jim swatted affectionately. "Guess we'd better get back." 

"Yeah." Sandburg cleaned up the bench seat between them and tossed the remains of their meal into a convenient trashcan. 

* * *

Rhonda was waiting at Jim's desk when they arrived. Silently she handed over two plane tickets, hotel reservation slip, rental car slip and an expense voucher. She looked at the two men who were examining the paperwork. 

"Guess this decided the issue, then." Jim commented. "I hadn't said I was going." 

Rhonda nodded. "The Attorney General's office decided that having a Washington detective there would be a good thing and offered to foot the bill. And since you've technically been invited...." 

"What about Texas? Shouldn't their justice people have final say over having an outsider coming in?" 

Simon stepped from his office in time to hear the final question. "Their Attorney General was miffed because the request got to us. I explained that the child's father had been one of the victims here, and Freelow had been convicted of his murder in our courts, before he was extradited to Texas. But since I didn't want to send you there in the first place, I suggested that the AG's office could answer Pamela Lee's letter on why her requested representative couldn't come." Simon smiled a nasty smile. "I love it when politicians start backing up and getting righteous. They even offered to split the cost." He looked at the crystal blue eyes. "I accepted on your behalf." 

Jim looked at Sandburg and handed him a plane ticket. "Guess that settles it. Pack a bag, Chief. Looks like we're headed for Livingston, Texas." 

* * *

The plane trip was bumpy, the coffee was terrible and the engine noise gave Ellison a headache. Neither man was in a good mood when they stepped through the concourse into a too air-conditioned terminal. Jim had sneezed as soon as he stepped off the jet and hadn't quit. By the time they reached the inside of the terminal, Jim was holding a tissue to his nose and rubbing his eyes. Blair had both their carry-ons and was digging frantically in his backpack for the small container of Benadryl. 

Jim leaned against a convenient wall and took the tiny half tablet and bottled water from Blair's outstretched hand. He tossed the tablet back and gulped down the water before he sneezed again. Then he leaned his head against the wall and tried to get his streaming eyes and nose under control. 

Blair rubbed his hand up and down the bare arm and watched his sentinel, worried. Fall hadn't completely arrived in this part of Texas yet and he didn't think Jim's sensitive nose would be that affected. Obviously, he thought wrong. 

"You going to be okay? Think you have it under control?" 

Jim nodded, blew his nose and wiped his eyes. He took a couple deep breaths and opened his eyes to see Blair's worried expression. "Hey." 

Blair smiled a little. "Hey, yourself. You going to live?" 

"Think so. Thanks." Jim straightened and looked for the sign indicating where they'd find their luggage. The two men started down the terminal hallway, losing themselves in the hurrying passengers surrounding them. 

The baggage area was crowded and noisy and they stayed back from the pushing and shoving people, letting the crowds clear out a little. Jim's sharp eyes spotted the Texas Ranger with a sign that read "Ellison" before Sandburg did. Jim touched his partner's shoulder and pointed to the casually dressed man with a star. 

Their approach was noted and the tall American Indian with the huge cowboy hat smiled and dropped his sign in the trash. "Texas Ranger, Dave Mitchell, at your service." A beefy callused hand was offered. 

Jim shook the offered hand. "Jim Ellison, my partner, Blair Sandburg. Thank you for meeting us. We weren't expecting it." 

Mitchell shrugged. "Least we could do. I take it you have luggage?" At Blair's nod, Mitchell motioned for a skycap who immediately stepped forward and took the traveler's luggage tickets. 

"I'd have your luggage delivered but the EconoLodge is a little drive from the airport. But at least we can throw it in the back of my jeep. Your car is already there. This way, gentlemen." 

Jim didn't move. "Why the VIP treatment?" His voice was coolly polite. 

Mitchell came back to his guests. "This execution has generated a lot of media attention. When the Attorney General notified our DA, we were told to treat you right. Something about PR for a family who couldn't send a representative?" Mitchell was walking backwards, pointing at a luggage-laden teenager and directing him out the door. "Anyway, the local media contacted the Cascade Herald to get their articles on the case and conviction up there. Pretty soon the story was out about the bust, the case, how one victim left behind a little girl, it goes on and on. Depending on whom you listen to, you're a cop coming here to gloat over your success, a do-gooder complying with a little girl's request, a visible reminder that Freelow had already been convicted in another state, or the Attorney General's way of saying that Freelow would have been executed anyway. So, once we knew where you were staying, we figured an escort would be needed. There was a camera crew at the car rental counter when I picked up your car. They had a recent picture of you, Detective Ellison." The Texas Ranger looked at Sandburg. "The fact that you have a traveling companion might have thrown them off the trail for a few minutes... but I doubt it." He grinned, tobacco-stained teeth flashing in his sun-aged face. He motioned them toward the doors again. 

Jim glanced at his partner, shrugged, and then followed the black cowboy hat toward the sliding doors. Sandburg was beside his partner, mentally writing a list of questions for the Native American with the round badge displayed so proudly. As they exited the terminal into the setting sun and heat, a red Jeep Cherokee with the Texas Ranger emblem pulled up and Mitchell opened the back door for them. Their luggage was tossed in the back cargo area and the hatch slammed closed. 

Mitchell settled into the front passenger seat as they sped off. "This is Lawson. He's not a cop yet, so he gets tagged with all sorts of stuff, like driving. 

Lawson nodded to the rearview mirror then put his attention back on driving. 

"If you're not a cop... yet, what are you?" Sandburg fastened his seatbelt and leaned forward to see the young man better. Lawson was tall, thin, and younger than Sandburg, with a mop of red hair and crooked front teeth. 

"I'm a grad student at Texas A&M. Majoring in criminal justice with a minor in anthropology. The local Rangers were kind enough to let me observe them as part of my degree." 

Blair leaned back in the seat with a groan. Jim chuckled and tapped Sandburg on the back of the head. "And here you thought you were being original." 

Mitchell looked at his laughing guest. "Did I miss something?" 

They spent the trip to the hotel being entertained with Sandburg's 'I'm not a cop' observer stories. 

* * *

The EconoLodge was fairly new, with three floors and a kidney-shaped pool off to one side of the parking lot. Their check-in was uneventful with a Texas Ranger scanning the busy tiled lobby for media people. Once their keys were in hand, and the clerk behind the counter was directing them down a hall, Mitchell took his leave with a wish for a pleasant evening. 

Jim signed in relief when they arrived in their room in the back of the sprawling complex. Both men tossed their carry-ons toward a large chair and then slipped into each others arms. They just held on for a while, not needing to talk, just absorbing each other. 

"How's the head?" Blair whispered. "And the nose?" 

Jim nodded. "Better. Planes are a real pain sometimes." 

Blair smiled against Jim's shirt. "I hear that." He eased away from Ellison's embrace. "How about finding out our options for dinner?" 

"Room service?" Jim kissed the end of Blair's nose. "If they have it?" 

"Avoid any reporters who might be lurking in the shadows?" Blair kissed back, taking his time with it. "If we do room service, we can watch the last of tonight's game." 

"Works for me." Jim disengaged himself from Blair's arms and found the hotel directory. 

Dinner arrived and the partners settled down over seafood and salad and watched the Mariners kick the Yankees out of the stadium. Buoyed up over the last play of the game, they celebrated with a long hot shower and oily hand jobs under the steamy spray. 

* * *

Morning arrived much too early, and Jim snapped awake when a shower kicked on several rooms away. Blair was draped across his chest, hair in his face and snoring softly. Jim looked down at his lifemate and smiled contentedly. It was very easy to wrap his arms around the warm body and relax back into sleep. The alarm buzzed a few minutes later, calling them to their duty. Blair groaned at the sound, but didn't move. 

"Come on, Chief, up and at them." Jim shook the pliant body by inhaling and exhaling rapidly, blowing on Blair's curls as he exhaled. 

"Five more minutes, I'm warm," Blair mumbled into Jim's chest and snuggled closer. 

Jim accomplished his mission by rolling onto his side and dumping his partner on the mattress without a pillow. That action generated a louder moan and a hand searching for a pillow to throw. By the time the hand had found the lost pillow, Jim was already on his way to the bathroom, parading his nakedness past Blair in temptation. He barely beat the hurled pillow. 

When Jim emerged from the bathroom, clad in boxers and muscle tee shirt, Sandburg had found the small coffee service and a pot was filling. He found a selection of papers outside their door and was glancing through the headlines of the Huntsville Item. He aimed a kiss at Jim's mouth as he headed for the bathroom, dropping the paper on the bed as he went by. 

"The execution isn't on the front page, which is good," he called as he closed the bathroom door. 

Jim nodded and started fixing their coffee. "Maybe the hype is already over with." 

Blair opened the door and stuck his head out, toothbrush in his mouth. "Wha? Didna cat th." 

Jim picked up the paper and waved it at his partner. The door closed behind Blair and Jim chuckled. Years of living together as roomies hadn't really prepared him for living together as lovers. Their shorthand, both visual and verbal had gotten shorter. It made for interesting conversations around the poker table. 

Blair emerged from the bathroom and Jim handed him a cup of coffee that earned him a real kiss. Sandburg smiled at his lover over the cup and then buried his nose in the fragrance. 

"Think we can find breakfast somewhere?" Blair finished his coffee, and fixed a second cup. 

"Like the hotel's restaurant? Sounds like a plan." Jim snagged the new cup of coffee before Blair could lift it and sipped, grinning fiendishly at his partner's expression. 

* * *

They were spreading cream cheese on toasted bagels when the reporter interrupted them. He slid into their booth like he belonged there and placed a notepad and tape recorder on the table. 

"Good morning, gentlemen. I'm Ted LeBleu with the Huntsville Item. I understand you are here for the execution scheduled on Wednesday." 

The partners exchanged a quick glance. Jim then turned his iceberg stare on the reporter interrupting their breakfast. The man was dark-haired and dark-eyed, dressed in a plaid short sleeve shirt and cream colored blazer over black jeans. But the eyes meeting Jim's stare were beady and snaky and Jim instantly didn't like the man. 

"Mr. LeBleu, you are interrupting our breakfast. Please leave." Jim's voice was as icy as his eyes. 

"I just have a couple of questions, Detective Ellison. It is Detective Ellison, isn't it? You headed up the investigation in Cascade, Washington, that led to the arrest and conviction of Mr. Freelow." The reporter opened his pad of paper and scanned through a list of notes. When he looked up again, Jim was a granite statute sitting at the table. 

Sandburg took one look at his partner and spoke up. "Mr. LeBleu, I'm sure that the AG's office has all sorts of media information for anyone who wants it. An execution is pretty routine for this part of Texas. I suggest you contact that office." 

"And you are?" The beady eyes turned on Sandburg. 

"My partner." Jim growled. "Mr. LeBleu, I have nothing to say to you or to any of your colleagues. You will please remove yourself from our breakfast table or I will have you escorted out. I'm sure hotel security is perfectly able to handle situations like this." 

"Detective Ellison, the public has a right to know --" 

"And visitors to our city have a right to a quiet breakfast, Ted." Mitchell's voice carried quietly over the reporter's. "I suggest you take Detective Ellison's advice and leave. There will be a press briefing sometime today and you'll be notified." 

The Texas Ranger reached down and helped the reporter to his feet, gathered up the man's materials and placed them in his arms. With a gentle shove, he started LeBleu toward the doorway and stood watching until the reporter disappeared. 

"Sorry about that, gentlemen." Mitchell turned back to their table. "Ted doesn't know the meaning of the words 'no comment'. May I join you?" 

Jim waved him toward the vacant seat next to Sandburg and motioned for the waitress to bring more coffee. 

"We weren't expecting to see you this morning," Sandburg commented while he added some jam to his bagel. 

Mitchell waited until the waitress left and saluted them with his coffee mug. "Hadn't planned to stop in. I was going to call and tell you boys to be at the District Attorney's office at 10, but I let the charge run down on the dang cell phone. Figured it'd be just as simple to drop by and tell you in person." He sipped his coffee and smiled. "'sides, they serve a fine cup of coffee here and I ain't had mine yet this morning." 

Jim smiled at the man. "I take it that a map with the location of the DA's office is in the car? And the car is parked?" 

Mitchell dug into his pant's pocket and pulled out a set of keys. "Knew there was sumthin else. Lawson dropped off your rental yesterday, in the corner of the parking lot, then pulled the keys instead of giving them to the manager." He pushed the ring to Ellison. "Here you go. It's a blue Explorer. Map's in the glovebox, 'long with a schedule. Like I was tellin' Ted, there's gonna be a press conference this afternoon. Figured we'd handle everybody bitchin' and moanin' then. The lawyers asked for a stay of execution, but ain't no more evidence shown up to indicate there's been a bad trial." 

"What's the story on your reporter friend?" Sandburg finished his bagel and was looking longingly at Jim's omelet. Jim saw the look in Blair's eyes and cut the omelet in half and scooped half of it on Blair's plate. Blair grinned at his lover and dug in. 

"Oh, Ted thinks he can sweep in, scoop everybody, and sweep right back out again. Problem is, we've got a local TV station now and suddenly there's some competition for the paper. So Ted has gotten a little cagier. He listens to all our frequencies, and is constantly dogging us when we're working. Used to be, he'd call up, get a few quotes, write the story and be done with it. Now, he's right in our face. And if you don't have him in your face, you got the local TV guy. And the TV guy thinks he's hot stuff with his mobile studio so he can go 'live' at the drop of a hat." Mitchell shook his head. "Getting to be a big city." 

Jim chuckled at the Ranger's complaining. He'd heard it or said it, at least once. Sandburg smiled at Jim's short laugh, but remained silent. He learned more by listening these days, particularly in situations where his knowledge was non-existent. 

The Texas Ranger finished his coffee and looked at his empty coffee cup with a sigh. "I really shouldn't have anymore. My wife says I drink too much caffeine, and my doctor agrees with her." 

"Married?" Sandburg asked politely. "How long?" 

"Twenty-five years. And don't tell her that I know our anniversary is coming up. She thinks I forgot." Mitchell tossed a dollar on the table and rose. "Thanks for the coffee, see you gents later." He waved at the waitress and strode from the hotel restaurant, one hand resting on the pistol in his hip holster. 

Blair watched him go. "Was it something I said?" He looked at Jim with a smile. 

Jim shook his head and finished off his hash browns. 

* * *

Blair navigated the blue Explorer through city traffic while Jim gave directions. It was easier on Jim's nerves as far as the navigating went, but harder on his nerves with Blair driving. Intellectually he knew that Sandburg was a good driver, probably safer than he was. But it didn't make it any easier to give up control and let Blair drive. 

The city was beautiful, with lots of modern buildings clustered in areas separate from the historic Civil War era buildings and homes. In the couple days they had before they departed Cascade, Sandburg had researched everything he could about the area and now he rattled on about the landmarks and the history of them as they passed. 

Jim smiled as his travel guide pointed out a museum he wanted to visit. He'd agreed to accompany Blair to one museum, in return he got to pick one thing he wanted to see or do. So far, he hadn't decided. But there was beautiful golf course in the area and he'd brought his clubs. 

* * *

The DA's office was in a squat glass tower overlooking a lake. The building housed the city's offices, the courtrooms, and the police headquarters. The truck was given a visitor's parking permit after their IDs were checked and a call was made to be sure they were expected. The truck was shown to a particular spot in a particular area of the underground garage, and a uniformed security guard escorted the partners to the fourth floor by and ushered them into a plush office. 

A brawny Latino man wearing a Texas Ranger star, followed by a small Asian woman in a severe maroon suit, immediately greeted them. 

"Jose' Haven." The Ranger stated, motioning to the woman. "This is our District Attorney, Rose LeMing. We're very pleased you joined us, Detective Ellison." 

Ellison shook the offered hands, then introduced Sandburg. "I admit to being surprised. Usually red tape gets in the way of things like this." 

The diminutive DA motioned the men to chairs around a conference table in an adjoining room and signaled to a staff member for coffee. They made small talk about the local scenery and the sites to visit while a young man brought in a carafe of coffee, mugs, a silver cream pitcher and sugar bowl. 

Sandburg smiled at the man as he poured coffee for everyone. "We're not used to staff doing things for us. Thank you." 

Haven spoke up. "Southern hospitality is still the order of the day for guests. The rest of the time we're on our own." The ranger took his mug with a smile. "Of course, you being from the Pacific Northwest, you probably have a taste for the exotic coffees. I understand there is a coffee stand on every corner." 

"Something like that." Blair acknowledged as he added cream to his mug. "It's real easy to spend a lot on fancy coffee." 

Rose LeMing lifted her cup with a tea bag floating in the steaming water. "I'm afraid I have not acquired a taste for coffee. Tea is much more soothing." 

"I have my favorites as well." Blair glanced at Jim and dropped the subject, knowing that the detective was anxious to get down to business. 

"As I said earlier, I was surprised that the red tape got cleared for this. I understand Texas is pretty rigid about who attends these things." Jim looked at his hosts. A pulse was racing under the skin in each neck. 

LeMing lowered her fragile teacup to its matching saucer. "Detective Ellison, we received the victim's request through the Attorney General's office. At that moment, we didn't know anything about the Washington case, only that Freelow had been convicted there. Quite frankly, we were going to ignore it. But the rules regarding victims' rights in the execution of a convicted felon are very clear. We had no choice but to forward the request. That got Freelow's attorney involved. Once he realized that the Washington case hinged on your testimony, he tried to use that case to justify reopening this case. He filed a request with the Board of Pardons. Those usually fail." The woman looked at Jim steadily. "But this opened another issue that you may not be aware of." 

Jim put down his mug and nodded for her to continue. 

"Mr. Freelow sent a statement to us through his attorney. He has also stated he wants you to witness his execution because he believes he would never have been convicted of murder without you." 

"In other words, he wants me to witness this so I will never forget him or his actions." Jim looked over at Blair who was looking at the table, shaking his head. 

Haven nodded. "That's how we see it. We couldn't say anything once we realized that the Attorney General was going to push the request from the Lees. Freelow's attorney knows that. And he's not above rubbing our faces in it either." 

Jim shook his head, then rubbed his hands over his face. He looked into his almost empty coffee mug. "I had to go down to records and pull the file from the vault to jog my memory. I hadn't been a detective in Major Crimes very long and was anxious about proving myself. Once I saw the names, it all came back to me." 

LeMing smiled at Ellison. "I know the feeling. My first six months as DA was the biggest challenge of my life." 

Detective and DA's eyes met in perfect understanding. Jim could feel Sandburg vibrating beside of him, holding back with a huge effort. Jim cast an affectionate glance at his partner, knowing the anthropologist wanted to know how an Asian woman handled being a DA in Texas and a thousand other things. Blair met the ice-blue eyes and grinned. No words were needed. 

"What happens next?" Jim looked at the DA again. 

"There is a press conference at 1 p.m. We don't expect you to say anything or answer any questions. However, there are some rumors circulating about the Cascade conviction that are bound to come up." 

Ellison nodded to the woman. "So we've heard." 

Haven shook his head in disgust. "Let me guess. You had Ted along with breakfast. That little man can be a real pain." 

Sandburg spoke up. "We have a couple in Cascade that are the same way. Give them a quote and suddenly you spoke for days and they misquoted you at that." 

Chuckles floated around the table. 

LeMing smiled gently at her guests. "Since we seem to be airing all the unpleasant things first, I do have one request for Detective Ellison. Mr. Freelow's daughter, Rena, has requested a private meeting. She is twenty-one and has been a ward of the state and living in foster homes since her father's second or third arrest. Her mother died of a drug overdose when she was very little. Her father's attorney told her you would be coming to Livingston. My first reaction was to deny the request but then I thought the decision should be left up to you." 

Jim studied the delicate features that were full of sorrow. This woman felt a lot of pain with her job, he decided. He glanced at Sandburg, who nodded fractionally. 

"I don't think meeting the young lady would be a problem." 

The Texas Ranger got up and stepped to a phone. Two buttons and a brief statement started the ball rolling. 

Conversation fell off and Sandburg got up and wandered to a wall containing photos and newspaper clippings tracing the history of the area. Haven joined him a moment later. 

Sandburg glanced at him. "I have some cousins in Texas that I spent a summer with when I was a teenager, doing long haul trucking. Haven't been back. But we didn't come through Livingston." 

"Then you must hit our museum and historic trails. For a visitor, they are quite educational." 

"And for a local, they are old hat." Blair said with a smile. 

Haven chuckled slightly. "That's true. But there is always something new to see. Like this story..." he pointed at a grainy storm photo and began to spin a tale. 

* * *

Ellison shifted his attention from Sandburg and Haven to the DA. She was studying him silently. He arched an eyebrow in a silent question. 

"Once the execution started generating all these issues, I researched your history. You're quite the enigma, Detective Ellison. From a wealthy family, you leave home to join the Army; lost in Peru for over a year, became a cop, Officer of the Year credentials. I thought your choice of college courses was interesting, military history and political science, with electives in everything from ancient feudal society to ancient warfare arts. How come you're not a politician?" 

Ellison shrugged. "I'm more of the hands on type. Never had much use for politics." 

Their polite conversation was interrupted by the intercom announcing the arrival of Freelow's daughter. Haven answered the speaker and looked toward his boss and Ellison. 

"There's an empty office down the hall." 

Ellison got up and looked at Sandburg still studying the decorated wall. "Care to join me?" 

"Right behind you, man." Ellison waited at the door for his partner. 

* * *

The woman huddled in the executive style office chair looked up at Ellison's and Sandburg's entrance. Dark brown eyes followed the two men as Haven made introductions before leaving. She was heavy set and olive-skinned, with dark hair cut short, framing a heart-shaped face. Dressed in a multi-colored broomstick floor-length skirt and denim overshirt, she looked years older than twenty-one. The silence in the room grew heavy quickly. 

Ellison looked at Sandburg, eyes begging for an idea or help. 

"We know there is nothing we can do to ease your sorrow," Sandburg said as he slid into a chair across from the young woman. "But is there anything you want to ask us, or tell us?" Blair deliberately pitched his voice low and calm, much like he did when Jim was on a rampage and had to be settled down. 

Rena Freelow looked from the sincere dark blue eyes to the sky blue ones of the standing detective. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath as if to steady herself. 

"I wanted to meet the man who put my father in jail for murder. I guess I wanted to say 'thank you' for stopping him. I -- this probably doesn't make any sense. I had a nice little speech I wanted to say, but now it's gone." She shook her head and closed her eyes again. "I wanted to tell you that I'm not angry with you, that I think what you did was right. My father... wasn't a very nice man, but he was all I had, you know? I think I knew, when I was a kid, that he wasn't like other kids' dads. And after Mom died, he got real mean. The social workers came and took me away and finally he gave up trying to get me back. Said I wasn't worth the effort. When he started traveling and disappearing all the time, I figured he was up to something no good. When I heard about you arresting him, Detective Ellison, I figured he'd go to jail, and maybe, when he got out, he'd be a better man." 

Ellison sat down and touched her hand briefly. "I'm sorry, Rena." 

The dark eyes contained a couple unshed tears. "Wasn't your fault. When I found out he'd been convicted of murder, I knew I wouldn't see him again, or at least I wouldn't see him as a father. The foster home tried real hard to make me understand that it wasn't my fault he was like what he was. I went to a bunch of counselors and stuff in my senior year at school. I just wanted you to know that he didn't leave behind a loving daughter and family. I know his lawyer wants to paint that type of picture, but it's not true." 

"What about your grandparents?" Blair whispered. 

"Gramps and Granny don't think their son could do anything bad. They got the money to hire lawyers and stuff to try and get him off. But they haven't had any luck. I reckon that's why you're here. They want to make sure you know that it's their boy you convicted, not some low life trash from the wrong side of the tracks." 

Blair smiled. "That's an interesting way of describing someone." 

His comments startled a small smile from the woman. "Yeah, well, his family can trace themselves back to some Southern plantation owner who was well known and thought of in these parts. My grandparents throw that up in my face a lot. It's just a name to me, never been partial to knowing my ancestors." 

"You know, I don't have any knowledge about my father's side of my heritage and I figure I'll regret it someday." Sandburg's voice was soft and compelling. "Maybe it's time you took a look at your Mom's side, instead of concentrating on your father's. You might find that there is a whole group of people willing to love you, something worth calling family." Blair gripped the young woman's hand, folding it around his for a moment, trying to convey some type of understanding to her. Then he followed Jim's motions and got up. Both men shook her hand and wished her well, eliciting a true smile for the first time. 

* * *

LeMing looked up when they re-entered the DA's offices. She glanced at the clock. "That didn't take long. Did she want something? Any problems?" 

Jim shook his head, then strolled to the tall windows looking down on the city center. Blair's eyes followed his partner's movements, but left him alone, focusing back on the woman. 

"I know you said there was a press conference at one. Is there someplace we can get a light lunch, something to drink?" 

The Texas Ranger entered on Sandburg's question and quickly spoke up. "There's a cafeteria on the bottom floor that serves up a decent sandwich, but the best is a little steak house around the corner. They're used to us Rangers and what we like to eat." 

Jim turned from the window. "I don't think I can handle a steak, but lunch is appealing." Jim crossed the room, Blair joining him. "Tell me about Texas Rangers, Ranger Haven." 

Haven opened the door and motioned them through. "How many hours have you got, Detective Ellison?" The door closed behind them, leaving the DA chuckling. 

* * *

As far as press conferences went, it was a small gathering. There was the local paper, the local TV station, a couple of the more disreputable rags, and coverage for the justice system in Texas. Blair caught Jim's eye and motioned toward the group. 

Jim nodded, knowing Sandburg was thinking of another press conference and the furor that surrounded it. 

The District Attorney and the warden from the prison were making canned statements and answering the prepared questions. Ellison and Sandburg remained in a back corner of the small room, staying quiet and anonymous. 

Then a reedy voice interrupted the warden's statement. All eyes turned to the local newspaper reporter. 

"Warden, we all know the case behind Freelow's conviction. We've heard the same story every time you've talked to us. What I want to know is what the arresting detective from Cascade, Washington is doing here." 

Voices started humming and muttering and soon the small room was in an uproar. District Attorney LeMing took over from the warden and motioned for silence. LeMing shot a murderous look at LeBleu. The little man smirked, knowing that his question would generate a media flurry for days, and he would reap the rewards. 

"One of the victims' families in Cascade asked that Detective Ellison be allowed to act as their representative and be present for the execution. The state of Texas agreed to allow his presence. Detective Ellison graciously agreed to the family's request." 

Voices erupted again, with Ted's drowning out everyone else's. "Will he answer our questions about the Washington trial?" LeBleu turned and stared at Jim, knowing full well that the rest of the reporters would follow his gaze and see the silent detective and partner standing in the corner. 

LeMing looked at Ellison, eyes asking the detective what he wanted to do. She had lost control of this group the instant the newspaper reporter opened his mouth. 

Jim glanced at Blair. The observer rocked his shoulders and sighed. "Pretend it's that jerk from the Cascade Herald," he whispered. 

"Thanks, Chief," Jim said sotto voce. 

LeMing looked at Ellison, whose blue eyes were hard chips in his granite face. The DA tapped a well-manicured fingernail against the microphone. "Detective Ellison responded to a request forwarded to Washington from the Attorney General's office. He is not here to answer questions about Freelow's conviction in the state of Texas." 

"Why not?" LeBleu continued. "My research shows that Detective Ellison's case was instrumental in your case and conviction." 

More questions flew into the air, a confused mass of "Detective Ellison" and words. 

Jim looked from LeMing to Blair. He finally detached himself from the corner and stood straight. He made no move toward the podium, but his eyes cast across the faces with lights and cameras. The voices settled down to silence as the cold eyes made contact. Jim's voice covered the room in quiet tones. 

"I didn't come here to make any statement to the press. A request was forwarded to my captain that I couldn't ignore. The state of Washington's case against Mr. Freelow laid the groundwork for the case in Texas. I was part of that investigation and conviction." 

"Detective Ellison, how do you feel about being responsible for someone facing the death penalty?" It was a woman's voice from the group. 

"Mr. Freelow was convicted of murder and drug trafficking in Washington. He was then extradited to Texas for his crimes here. A Texas judge and jury convicted him and decided the sentence. I had nothing to do with it." 

"Detective Ellison, do you think Freelow would have been caught without your efforts in Cascade?" Another voice, male, sang out. 

"He would have been caught eventually. Whether in Cascade, here, or someplace else." Jim shrugged. 

"Detective Ellison, there has been some speculation that Freelow was set up in Cascade. That his conviction covered up a larger drug cartel." It was LeBleu's reedy voice again. 

"I won't even dignify that comment with an answer. The investigation and conviction in Cascade were the result of good police work." Jim growled his answer and he stared at the beady-eyed reporter. The reporter finally dropped his eyes and the pen in his hand shook slightly. 

"Detective Ellison, how do you feel about the death penalty?" Another voice. 

Jim looked at the burly man in the baggy jacket. "No comment." With a glance at Sandburg, he slipped from the room. Sandburg nodded to LeMing and followed. 

Their exit started another uproar. In the hallway outside Jim leaned against the wall for a moment and rubbed his hands over his face, then through his hair. Sandburg placed a hand on a forearm and squeezed gently. 

"That went over well." 

Ellison opened his eyes and met Sandburg's. "Depends on your definition of 'well', Chief. The DA has a lot to learn about controlling feeding frenzies." Jim cocked his head and then pushed Blair toward the stairwell. "It's breaking up, and I don't want to be here when it does. Come on." 

* * *

District Attorney Rose LeMing entered her office followed by Warden Marty Marion, current head of the state prison system. He was growling all the way across the floor from the elevator. 

"I don't understand why you didn't let Ellison answer those questions. Wasn't that why he came down here? If he answered their questions, some of the heat would be off of us. Those reporters made us look like fools." 

LeMing went to her coffee stand and poured a cup of steaming water into her teacup and added a teaball before answering. "I didn't have anything to do with Ellison answering their questions. It was completely up to him. And I applaud the way he handled himself. More of our people should be so circumspect." 

"So now we're supposed to explain how the case in Cascade got handled?" Marion was a ruddy-faced man who showed his high blood pressure easily. "You know that we have a couple lawyers demanding a stay of execution until the whole case gets re-examined." 

"That's here, not there. And what he was convicted of in Washington has no bearing on the case here. You know that. So quit fretting, Marion. Unless you feel that our case was weak and there may be some discrepancies warranting a review." Her almond eyes flashed at the big man. "Do you know something I don't know? Once a man is dead, it's too late to say I'm sorry, we made a mistake." 

Marion's hands flew up and he shook his head. "No, the case was solid, the conviction solid and the sentence was decided by the highest judge in the state." 

LeMing nodded and sipped her tea. "Did you happen to see where our guests went? They knew to make tracks when the media was dismissed." 

"Haven't seen them." Marion sagged into a convenient chair. He mopped his bald head with a soggy square red handkerchief. He didn't wear his dark suit well, and his bushy mustache dripped water at the ends. "Why'd you invite them here anyway?" 

"Wasn't my idea. Just following orders." She settled into the chair next to the warden and patted the old man's wrist. "You really should think about retiring. This position is going to kill you." 

"I was all right until someone invented DNA testing. Now, I can't sleep at night, wondering 'what if'." He pushed himself out of the chair and started across the thick carpet. Marion turned and looked back at the woman as he stood in the door to let himself out. "You know, I always believed in 'an eye for an eye'. Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age because each time I go through this I wonder if we're doing the right thing." He closed the door behind himself, leaving LeMing sipping her tea and staring out a window overlooking the city. 

* * *

Haven looked up from his desk as Warden Marion exited the inner office. The warden leaned against the heavy wooden desk and panted. He nodded toward the closed door. 

"She seems very calm this close to an execution. She say anything to you?" 

Haven shook his head as he signed another piece of paper and tossed it into his out basket. He looked up at the large perspiring man. "What do you want her to do, pace back and forth and fret until it's all over? All the 'i's are dotted and the 't's are crossed. We have been here many, many times before. She's done all she can do." 

"Do you believe that Detective from Washington? You think he was up and up on his case? I don't know enough to know." 

"Like the man said, that was Washington, this is Texas." 

The warden looked at the ceiling for help when he didn't get the answer he wanted. "Where did they take off to?" 

Haven looked up. "They went to the roof, or so Security said. I didn't send a Ranger to look for them. They're our guests. Have no reason to keep an eye on them." 

Marion nodded and left the office, looking worse for wear. 

* * *

Jim looked over the edge of the roof, smiling at the scenery in front of his sentinel eyes. He could see most of the city, and the edge of a large lake. The air was clean and sweet, without the smells of a city. 

"Chief, you can come over here. You know I won't let you get too close. It's just like the balcony at home." Jim turned and leaned against the thigh high retaining wall. He grinned at Blair and offered a hand. 

Sandburg looked at Jim suspiciously for a moment, then left the safety of the heating units in the center of the roof. He took Jim's hand and let himself be pulled into the secure circle of strong arms. Together they looked out over the city for a long time in silence. 

Blair took a deep breath and looked up at the man at his back. "What next?" 

"I have a hunch that Freelow's attorney has a few words for me. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if Freelow wants to see me himself." 

"Why?" 

Jim shrugged and tightened his arms a fraction. "Who knows. I doubt if he wants forgiveness." 

"But we don't have to be anywhere, right? We're free to sightsee?" 

"As long as we tell someone how to contact us, I don't see why not." Jim turned his lover to face him. "What do you have in mind?" 

"How about the museum, dinner, then a walk along the lake?" 

Jim brushed a curl from Blair's forehead. "Sounds like a game plan. We'll tell the DA to leave a message for us at the hotel." He kissed the high forehead briefly, then led Sandburg toward the elevator. 

* * *

Dinner was at a small Cajun steak house that was a contradiction in itself. Jim watched Blair plow through a plate of crayfish and shrimp in amazement. He had no idea you could eat them, let alone buy them as a dish. He looked down at his filet mignon and wondered if he shouldn't have been a little more adventuresome. 

Sandburg looked at Jim eying his plate and handed over a crayfish. "Treat it like a lobster. Just eat the tail. Like this." Blair deftly broke over the shell and pulled the meat out. He dipped it into a sauce and popped it into his mouth with a grin. 

Jim followed suit and chewed thoughtfully. "Think I'll stick with the steak. Thanks anyway, Chief." 

"No problem, man." Blair grinned at his lover, and then his gaze caught a familiar face approaching them. "Heads up, man. Reporter at 6 o'clock." 

Jim sighed. "LeBleu, right?" 

Blair nodded. "Wonder how he found us?" Sandburg sipped his beer. "Think if we just slipped out he'd get stuck with the check?" 

"I doubt it." Jim cut through his steak and stuck it in his mouth. He chewed a second before he spoke. "Besides, this is too good to walk away from." 

Ted LeBleu slid into the seat like he belonged there and placed a pad and tape recorder on the table. He beamed at Ellison and Sandburg. 

"Good evening, gentlemen. So kind of you to tell the hotel where you were having dinner. So nice of the receptionist to pass on that information." 

"What was the bribe?" Sandburg asked, not trying to be polite. 

"Now, Chief. Give the man the benefit of the doubt. He probably identified himself as a law enforcement person from Cascade." Jim's eyes belied the jovial tone. 

Blair nodded. "No doubt." He broke a crayfish in half, slowly, making the exoskeleton crack loudly. He felt the reporter's eyes on him as he peeled the meat out of the shell and dipped it in sauce before popping it into his mouth. When he met the small eyes, they quickly looked away and Blair mentally scored himself a point. He ran his tongue over his lips and reached for a shrimp, slowly pulling off the legs. 

"Detective Ellison, you didn't give us much of a chance to talk to you at the press conference today." 

"I said all that needed to be said." Jim pointedly cut another chunk off his steak. 

LeBleu sighed. "About the case in Cascade, you probably did. However, you didn't tell us about how you felt about the outcome of this case." 

"My opinions have no bearing on this case or the outcome." He lifted his empty beer bottle for the passing waiter to see. 

LeBleu changed tactics. "All right, if you won't talk to me about the case, how do you like our city? Quite a change from the Pacific Northwest." 

"Wouldn't know. We haven't had time to see anything yet." 

"I did some research on the web and there are some interesting areas we'd like to see if we have time." Sandburg piped up. "Sounds like there is quite a history to the area, from the original setting of the land of Europeans heading West to the Civil War to the discovery of oil." 

LeBleu finally took his eyes off the larger man, who was chewing a piece of Texas toast in silence, and looked at Sandburg. "I'm sorry, I never did get your name. Detective...?" 

"Sandburg. I'm a consultant with the department, not a cop." 

"You are not mentioned in the Freelow case. Were you part of the case?" 

Blair shook his head. "I was assigned to Detective Ellison a few years ago." 

That caused LeBleu to turn several pages back in his notebook. "Oh yes, you are mentioned as being Detective Ellison's partner when he made Officer of the Year." He looked at Sandburg with new eyes. "Isn't having a civilian riding with a cop unusual?" 

Jim spoke up. "Not at all. We met one at the airport, didn't we, Chief?" 

Blair nodded with a smile. "Right. Larson, the redhead from Texas A&M. He was working with the Rangers." 

LeBleu was making notes. "Really? I didn't know the Texas Rangers had a program like that. Maybe I ought to check into that." He looked at Sandburg. "Do you have any comments about this case, Mr. Sandburg?" 

Blair shook his head. "I reviewed the files and the sentence after we received your AG's request. I didn't know anything about this side of it until we were told to come here." 

"Any comments on the outcome?" 

"No." Blair went back to his crayfish and broke another one. 

When neither man said anything more, LeBleu finally took the hint and left them alone. Jim took his second beer from the waiter and handed Sandburg the dessert menu. 

"Will you explain to me what a mud pie is?" 

* * *

Darkness fell a little earlier than in Cascade and the two men took advantage of the warm evening. They walked along a trail that meandered through a park near their hotel and talked about the day, the press conference, the case, without hitting on any of the deeper subjects that underlay the conversation. As the darkness deepened, Jim took Blair's hand as they walked, guiding him from infrequent trail-light to trail-light. He stopped suddenly, head darting as his eyes caught movement. 

"Did you see that, Chief?" Jim's voice held a touch of wonder. 

Sandburg sighed. It was a familiar question that at times annoyed him. "I'm not a Sentinel, Jim. It's dark out here." 

"You don't need to be a Sentinel to watch this. Just wait." Both men stood still and stared into the darkness. A few seconds later Blair gasped in delight. 

"I see them!" Ahead of them, a group of fireflies danced around some bushes, the tiny glowing bodies twinkling on and off as they moved. The men watched in silent glee as the insects zoomed around them, getting closer and closer as neither man moved. 

"I haven't seen fireflies in -- years." Jim whispered. 

"I don't remember ever seeing them." Blair's eyes followed the dancing insects. "This is so cool. What happens if you catch one?" 

"If you're careful, they'll keep glowing. But they're real fragile. I remember catching a few in a jar when Steve and I were kids, but that was a long time ago." 

Blair finally lifted a hand, palm outstretched as one zoomed around his head. The little bug never lit, but it investigated the appendage thoroughly before zooming off to join the others. 

"Wonder if it's mating season and that's why we're seeing so many?" 

"Chief, it's fall. And only you would wonder about the mating season for insects." Jim laughed and pulled Blair into a quick hug. 

"Well, if I can't speculate about mating season for fireflies, wonder what I'd get if I investigated the mating habits of sentinels?" Sandburg chuckled from the warmth of Jim's chest. 

Jim started them down the path again, keeping one arm around Blair's shoulders. "Is that a hint to go back to the hotel?" 

"Hey, have to go look in a sentinel's lair to learn anything. Right?" 

Both men were laughing as they entered the lobby. 

* * *

In their room Jim pulled Blair into a long kiss and started worrying at the tee shirt tucked into his jeans. When he finally got it loose he peeled it off his partner with no effort and tossed it toward a bed. 

Blair was having trouble with Jim's black tee shirt and finally stepped back from the embrace that was slowing him down. Jim was panting and his lips were already red and swollen. 

"I think this will go faster if we undress separately." 

"I know what you want. You want a strip tease." Jim's eyes danced as he started swaying his hips as he worked the tee shirt up over his ridged stomach. "You want to watch," he whispered, as the shirt rose over his chest. 

"I want you naked." Blair reached for the belt buckle. "'Sides you can't do a strip without music." 

"We'll make our own music. Come 'ere, Chief." Jim grabbed Blair, tucked him close and swayed him across the room, humming softly. His hands rubbed up and down the soft hair on Blair's back. 

Blair worked at Jim's belt buckle, then the button and zipper. Jim made it harder by bumping and grinding against Blair's groin. Blair groaned at the touch that was making it harder and harder to accomplish his task. 

"Having a little problem there, Chief?" Jim chuckled into Blair's neck, then nipped the thin skin. "Want some help?" 

"Just hold still." Blair gritted as his hands worked the zipper. 

"Where's the fun in that?" Jim swerved his hips away from the hands. "Need a little help, love? Just say the word." 

Blair captured the hips with both hands and ripped at the waistband. The zipper finally released and the pants came free. The dark fabric dropped to Jim's knees and Blair stripped the navy boxers from the narrow hips. 

"Step out," he commanded. When Jim complied, Blair kicked the clothes away. Then he undid his own jeans and tossed them aside. 

Jim was quicker than Blair and tugged the briefs down in one quick motion. Blair's erection bounced free and Jim dropped to his knees and fastened his lips over the rosy crown. 

Blair yelled at the sensation and buried his hands into the short brown hair, trying to control Jim's motions. "Don't, don't, don't, I'm too close." Blair frantically chanted. 

Jim pulled off the strong erection with a sucking sound and looked up at Blair with smiling eyes. He licked Blair from root to crown and then stood up again. His own erection danced from his body and he rubbed it against his partner's. 

"Want to take this to bed?" Jim tugged his lover toward him and kissed Blair soundly as he angled them both into the big bed. 

Blair fell into the mattress and Jim landed on him, catching his full weight at the last moment. Carefully he settled over the smaller body and Blair wrapped his legs around Jim's waist. 

They kissed until they were breathless, then looked at each other, love flowing from their eyes. Jim brushed a lock of hair from Blair's sweaty face. 

"Tell me what you want tonight," he whispered into an ear, then bit a hoop and pulled on the earring. 

Blair rubbed their erections together, humping himself against his partner. "Sixty-nine? I want to taste you, feel you in my mouth, wrap my tongue around you and love you." He looked into Jim's face, smiling. 

"That's easy. I love you, by the way." Jim kissed him again then rolled off his lover and they positioned themselves for comfort and a prolonged session of oral lovemaking. 

"Love you too." Blair whispered. He slipped his hands around Jim's hips and pulled his lover into position where he could enjoy pleasing his partner. Jim's erection fit his mouth perfectly and he licked across the velvet crown, taking the moisture there and tasting it. He settled his head on a firm thigh and gently stroked the strong inner thighs as he licked and sucked the hard column. Jim groaned at Blair's touch. 

Jim slipped one hand into the crack of Blair's ass and found the sensitive bud there while his mouth worked up and down the thick cock. Every now and then he hummed around it, knowing the vibrations sent a shiver down to Blair's toes. His fingers pressed and rubbed against the sensitive rose while his mouth tortured Blair. 

Blair pulled off Jim long enough to gasp a warning before he tried to buck into his lover's mouth. He cried out as the orgasm ripped through him, curling his toes and arching his back. His hands gripped Jim's thighs as each spasm rocked his body. When it was over he lay panting against Jim. 

"God, Jim, what you do to me." Blair kissed the leg under his head. He pumped his lover's erection a few times and then captured the velvet crown, bringing Jim to an explosive release with a practiced grip. 

Jim bit Blair's thigh as he came, muffling his moan. He felt all the energy in his body drain through him and into Blair's throat. It was all he could do to roll to his back and collapse next to his lover. 

After a moment, Blair turned around and sank into the mattress next to his lover. "Think we want to get under the covers?' 

"Later." Jim's eyes were closed but he reached for Blair and pulled him tight. 

"Right. Later." Blair threw an arm and leg over Jim and went to sleep. 

* * *

The sun dawned bright red in a clearing sky. Jim Ellison watched from the hotel balcony as the thin morning clouds went from purple to red-orange, then cleared to white. He sipped his coffee and thought the sky was the appropriate color for this particular day. 

He heard his partner sigh and turn over, body rustling under the warm sheets. Thoughts of his mate brought a fond smile. No matter what happened today, Blair would be at his side. 

The midnight news had showed a vigil at the prison and reporters speculating over a possible stay. The press conference yesterday generated a group of second-guessers on a local talk show talking in detail about the Cascade trial and Ellison's presence. Of which the facts they had were so limited that the discussion disintegrated to conspiracy theories. 

Jim heard the local morning paper being slid under their door and wondered what LeBleu had written. Nothing good he was certain. 

Blair's sleepy voice called him back inside and he started a second pot of coffee in the tiny drip pot as he crossed to the door. He picked up the paper and crawled back into bed where Blair wrapped an arm around his waist and mumbled 'good morning' into his belly button. 

"Morning, Chief. Coffee's on." Jim knuckled the curly head lightly. "Sleep okay?" 

"Weird dreams. Shrimp were chasing me across sand." Sandburg rolled over and tossed his arm over his eyes. 

"Shouldn't have pulled their legs off, Chief. Shouldn't have eaten a dozen either. Funny how they got their revenge." Jim unfolded the paper; happy that he wasn't mentioned anywhere above the fold. The morning was looking up. 

"You're a laugh a minute, Ellison." Blair crawled out of bed and stretched before disappearing into the bathroom. When he returned he brought the coffee with him and made himself comfortable against the headboard. "Anything I want to read?" 

"Mariners lost." Jim handed over the sports and comics. "We're not mentioned on the front page." 

"Good." Blair sipped his coffee and chuckled over Doonesbury. 

Jim caught LeBleu's by-line on the front page of the local section and his name in the second sentence. He skimmed the three paragraphs quickly, satisfied that the local reporter had kept his article short and sweet, with little mention of himself or his partner. 

The rest of the section dealt with local opinions and other news. Jim tossed it into Sandburg's lap and crawled back out of bed. He refilled his mug and went into the bathroom to start his day. He heard the phone ring while he was shaving. 

"Sandburg." 

_"Mr. Sandburg, DA LeMing. Good morning. I trust this isn't too early?"_

"No, ma'am. We were having coffee." 

_"Mr. Freelow's attorney has asked for an appointment with Detective Ellison at ten a.m. He wishes to convey Freelow's final statement to the detective. The Board of Pardon refused to forward the request for a stay of execution at seven a.m."_

"If you'll hold a second, I'll relay this to Jim." 

_"Thank you."_

Blair turned toward the open door where Jim leaned against the frame, towel around his shoulders and face half covered in shaving cream. 

"I heard. But have the attorney come to LeMing's office and I want her there." 

"Will do." Sandburg relayed the message and hung up. "Why her office?" he called to Jim, knowing the man could hear him over the running water. 

"Neutral ground." Jim stuck his head back into the room, minus towel and shaving cream. "Since the stay wasn't granted, there isn't anything the attorney can do, except pour on a lot of guilt. He may just hand over an envelope, acknowledge that I accepted it and read it. Or Freelow may have instructed him to make some dramatic statement." Jim shrugged. "I'd just as soon have LeMing there to keep the attorney's conduct in line." He stepped out of his boxers and tossed them at Blair. "I'm gonna shower. Want to order us some breakfast? I have a hunch there will be several reporters hanging around in the lobby. I'd just as soon avoid them." He turned his back on Sandburg and mooned his partner, then looked over his shoulder to catch Blair's expression. 

Sandburg held the boxers in one hand and his coffee in the other. He was laughing at his partner. "You're gonna get it. One of these days..." 

"Promises, promises." Jim called as he started the water and stepped into the spray. 

* * *

As expected, the lobby contained several reporters and cameras. There was no other method out of the building except through them. The partners glanced at each other and prepared to be badgered. Jim started to pull Sandburg behind him, but at a glare from his partner, stopped the protective motion. It had been a hard lesson to learn and a harder one to control. 

The voices immediately started up and microphones were shoved into Jim's face. Six people crowded around them, forcing both men to stop and face them. After a moment of trying to focus on one voice at a time, Jim held up his hands and motioned for everyone to settle down. He remained silent until the uproar eased. Ellison looked around and, satisfied that some control had been re-established, nodded. 

"Detective Ellison, any comment on the refusal to issue a stay of execution?" The woman with the camera hovering over her shoulder seemed to be the leader of this particular pack. 

"I'm sure that the verdict issued was valid and obviously the judges could not find any reason to overturn that verdict." 

"Are you surprised?" Different voice, still female. 

"No." 

"Detective Ellison, have you ever witnessed an execution before?" This question was from a heavy set bearded man holding a tape recorder. 

"No." Jim started him and Sandburg forward again, taking baby steps, forcing the group to move with him. 

"What's your opinion on the death penalty?" The voice came from the only black man in the group. 

Jim stopped again. He looked at the thin man, seeing someone who wore his opinions on his face. "I'm a cop. There are some crimes that carry the death penalty. When someone is convicted of that crime, the law requires the punishment." 

"That wasn't the question, Detective. What is your opinion?" It was a new voice, with a Mexican accent. 

Jim looked at the group again. He didn't want to have this discussion here, in front of a group of reporters. "In this case, my opinion doesn't count. Now, if you will excuse us, we have an appointment to make." With those words, he plowed through the group, Sandburg at his heels, not looking back or acknowledging any other questions. 

They cleared the lobby and made it to their rental... finally. Both men heaved a sigh of relief when the doors slammed behind them and locked. 

Jim started the engine and glanced at his partner. "Could have been worse, Chief." 

Blair looked over at Jim, eyes questioning the statement while he tried to get his hair into a ponytail. 

Jim pulled them out into the street. "They could have asked your opinion. We'd still be there." 

"Yeah, and they might have learned something." Blair's voice growled as he looked out the window. 

"Sandburg, I know we disagree on this --" 

"I know we do. You have your reasons, I have mine. It's a matter of perception more than anything is. You buy into the criminal justice system as it is managed and the way convicts are punished. I don't. " 

Jim sighed. They'd had this discussion more than once, usually over beer after a long string of stakeouts that netted them nothing. 

"Chief, let me ask you this. Point blank, gut reaction. Knowing what you know about the case, is Freelow guilty?" 

"Yes." There was no hesitation. 

"Does he deserve to die for what he did?" Jim stopped at a light and looked at Blair, demanding that the blue eyes meet his. 

"I don't know." Blair met the intense eyes for a moment, then looked away to the street and the pedestrians strolling along it. When he looked back, Jim had accelerated through the light. "Which is more just, Jim? Confine someone for life, never let them see civilization again? Or take that life, commit legalized murder. You can't say the death penalty is a deterrent. We know it's not." 

"Is it justice when you lock someone up for seventy-five years, provide free room and board, and health care at the taxpayers' expense? How do the victims' families feel knowing that the killer is getting a free ride through life?" 

"Jim, this is an old argument. We're never going to agree." Sandburg sighed. "Let me put it like this -- in Texas, where we are right now, there have been more executions than any other state. Does this mean Texas has a higher rate of crimes deserving the death penalty? Or does the prosecuting attorney do a better job convincing a judge and jury that the perpetrator deserves the maximum sentence? Or that lower income people can't afford decent defense attorneys and end up convicted and sentenced at a higher ratio?" Blair's eyes were sparkling as he warmed to the topic. 

Jim heard Blair's voice slip into lecturing mode and knew he was in for a long morning with 'Professor' Sandburg if he didn't say something. There were times when Blair's teaching voice was a good thing and he loved to hear it. But there were other days when the side of Blair that was a teacher slipped out and Jim felt like a junior in high school again. Jim pulled the Explorer into a parking space and got out while Sandburg was taking a deep breath between sentences. He came around to the passenger side and slung his arm over Blair's shoulder as Sandburg hopped down and closed the door. 

"Chief, there are times when you being a shaman intent on teaching a stubborn sentinel is a real pain. You know that?" 

Blair tucked an arm around Jim's waist. "One of the things a shaman is supposed to do is teach. It's what they do for their tribe, besides heal. If the United States was a primitive tribe, an outsider might expect justice to be 'an eye for an eye'. But we're the most advanced civilization on Earth, Jim. How can you condone a government that commits murder in the name of justice?" 

"That sounds like something Naomi would say." Jim opened the door and ushered them in. 

"She has, a thousand times. If you want an argument, bring this up with her the next time she drops in." 

"I don't think so, Chief." 

A uniformed officer met them at the elevator to escort them up to the DA's office. The young black man kept flinching every time the elevator pinged, announcing the arrival at another floor. Blair finally commented on it. 

"We had a bunch of protesters in the building earlier." The uniformed cop explained. "They kept pushing for all the floors. Every time a car stopped, they threw in a bunch of flyers and ran. We're still picking up the papers and trying to determine who let them in the building. That's why you have an escort." He grinned, a mouth full of white teeth and braces. "Ranger Haven figured you might not take to being harassed too well." 

"He's right." Jim mumbled. 

The car stopped and they left their escort behind. The short hall to LeMing's office was crowded with all types of people rushing back and forth. Blair looked around at the rush in wonder. He looked at Jim, one eyebrow risen in question. 

Jim shrugged. "Who knows. There are probably all sorts of things that have to happen prior to an execution, Chief. I'm sure everyone is making sure that every 't' is crossed and every 'i' dotted." 

"I don't think I'd want to work here today, Jim. The vibes coming off everyone will be awful." 

Jim nodded but remained silent as the pair were ushered into the inner office by another uniform. 

Silence ruled in LeMing's office. Jim caught the aroma of a delicate tea and even more delicate incense. Which gave him more insight to the woman overseeing the situation they found themselves in. 

LeMing stepped out of a conference room and closed the door behind her. She smiled at her visitors and shook both their hands silently. "Mr. Freelow's attorney arrived about ten minutes ago. I did not expect the daughter to be with him, but she is. I'm afraid that Rena is showing signs of being pressured about her father's execution. When we talked yesterday, she was resigned and comfortable with the court's decision. Now, she is very distraught, courtesy of the defense attorney and his associates opposing the sentence." 

"I'll talk to her." Blair shot a glance at Jim, clearly saying 'wait', then opened the conference room door and closed it behind him. Jim didn't move from his spot facing the DA, who had watched Sandburg's action. 

"Mr. Sandburg is trained for this sort of thing?" She looked at Ellison, her almond eyes questioning. 

"You have no idea." Jim sighed. "Sandburg's talents fall outside of most people's definition, Ms. LeMing. I take it that your discussion with the attorney was not... enlightening?" 

"That's one way of putting it. Tea, Detective Ellison? Coffee?" 

"What ever you're drinking is fine. I noticed the scent when we came in. I didn't recognize it." 

* * *

Sandburg stopped at the door, eyes taking in the room immediately. He really didn't know what he could do for Rena Freelow, except make her feel less pressured, less... guilty over the whole thing. She was standing, facing a tall window that looked out over the city. A man Sandburg assumed to be the attorney was sitting at the head of the conference room table, arranging and rearranging some papers in his briefcase. Sandburg ignored the man for the moment and went directly to Rena. 

"Rena. Hi. I didn't expect to see you today." Blair touched her shoulder to get her attention, trying not to startle her. He wasn't expecting her to throw herself into his arms and wrap her arms around his neck. He embraced her for a moment, then moved her away. "What's wrong?" He led her back to the table and took the seat next to hers, still holding her hand. 

She was wearing the same clothes from the day before, but her eyes were hollow, her face ashen. She nodded toward the unacknowledged lawyer. "Mr. Spinster took me to see my father last night so I could say good-bye. I didn't think it would hurt so much. They had him in this cell, where they put prisoners waiting execution. He was eating this huge dinner, lobster, ice cream, anything you could think of. He was so... cold, like I didn't even matter. All he wanted to talk about was how wrong it was that'd he been caught." She sniffed. "I shouldn't have gone. At least then, I would have the illusion that he loved me." 

Sandburg couldn't say anything comforting. He pulled her against his shoulder where she cried. "I'm sorry, so sorry. Every child needs to be loved by their parents." 

"Did your father love you?" She pulled away and wiped her eyes with a tissue, then blew her nose. She looked at Sandburg, eyes still waterly. 

"Never knew him. Have no idea where even to look, for him, or his family. Mom never told me his name." 

"So at least you can imagine him as a good guy." 

"I do." Sandburg spotted a box of tissues on the table and snagged a few more. He handed them to Rena. "Better?" 

She nodded. "Mr. Sandburg, have you met my father's attorney, Ralph Spinster? My grandparents hired him to appeal my father's sentence." 

Blair nodded to the sitting man, not bothering to get up from Rena's side. He wasn't here to talk to a lawyer. His attention was on the distressed woman. "Is there anything I can do? Do you want to leave while my partner talks to him?" 

Rena nodded and Blair helped her to her feet. He glanced at the lawyer who was watching them though expensive metal frame glasses. 

"I'll send my partner in. He's the one you want to talk to." Blair opened the door and let them out. He spotted Jim sipping tea with the DA. "I'm going to take Rena out for some air. Mr. Freelow's attorney is waiting for you." 

Jim nodded and sat his teacup down while he got up. He watched how Blair guided the young woman out of the offices with a fond smile. There was a time when a screaming little green man would have shouted at the top of his lungs. Now, Jim was just glad Blair was there to take care of emotional situations that he wasn't comfortable with. 

* * *

Jim entered the conference room and let the door drift close behind him. The only other occupant was focused on his laptop and didn't look up for several seconds. Jim saw the snub for what it was and walked around the end of the table to the row of windows and looked out. There was a haze coming in over the lake and he could see a row of thunderheads looming up without straining at all. 

He heard the laptop power down and the 'snick' of the top closing. Finally, a throat cleared behind him. Jim looked over his shoulder at the man sitting at the table, making a big show of cleaning his glasses. Jim turned back to watching the approaching thunderheads. 

The silence lengthened until Jim heard a chair roll on the pale gray carpet. 

"Detective Ellison, I'm Ralph Spinster. Sorry I didn't greet you right away." 

Jim turned to face the little man holding out his hand. The lawyer was older than Jim by a decade or more and only had a fringe of white hair around his ears. His hazel eyes flowed over Ellison and he stood a little straighter, shifting his dark jacket to diminish his belly. 

Jim shook the hand extended to him but remained silent. 

"Your partner, Mr. Sandburg? He took Rena out. She's a little distraught, understandably so. She's losing her father." 

"You said you had a message from your client. What is it?" Jim ignored the emotion laden statement. 

The lawyer reached into his briefcase and pulled out a video tape. He held it up and motioned toward the TV/VCR combination in the corner. When Jim nodded fractionally, he inserted the tape and pressed the remote. 

Jim sat down after pulling two shades and dimming the lights, easing the glare on the TV screen. The screen went blue, black then rolled for a second before it cleared and revealed a man sitting at a table. He was dressed in orange coveralls, with handcuffs and a chain connecting them to his waist that disappeared under the table. He was thin, gray haired and gray bearded, with a scar running across his chin. 

A voice off camera said, "You're on." 

"Detective Ellison, thank you for joining me. Since you're watching this, I'm assuming all the appeals failed and you're counting the hours until I die. Sorry to ruin your satisfaction at how this case ends. Just wanted you to know that you'd never caught me except for some pretty incredible luck, good luck on your side, bad luck on mine. Without that luck, Texas would have never gotten their hands on me, either. I would have been sitting pretty in the Grand Caymans, pulling strings by remote control. 

"You didn't break the ring, you know. You just drove it deeper underground. Even with me here, the operation kept growing. Cascade isn't safe because I'm dead. The drug cartel I ran there just grew a new head. Instead of killing off the competition, my organization just merged with them. And like most mergers, it just kept right on growing. I'm like Hydra. Remember the story -- cut off one head, and two grew in its place. That's the beauty of a well organized operation. Don't you feel vindicated now? And don't look at that sleaze bucket of an attorney my parents hired. He doesn't know anything. Neither does my daughter. This secret I'll take to my grave. Count on it, Ellison." The figure leaned back in the chair and grinned. 

"That's all I have to say, Ellison. Just wanted you to know that you didn't win. Oh, one other thing. I'm convicted of what -- nine -- murders? You're not even close. Sleep well, Detective." Freelow signed off with a middle finger salute and the screen went black. 

"Were you there when he made this?" Ellison growled at the heavily perspiring attorney. 

"No. And before you ask, I hadn't seen it before. I had no idea." The tape rewound with a whir and clunked to a stop. The lawyer took the tape out and offered it to Ellison, who shook his head. 

"I think you need to give that to your District Attorney. Sounds like you have a lot of work to do." 

Spinster tapped the tape against his hand. "You know, I've heard a lot about organized crime operations run from prison, but I've never had any contact with it." His voice shook a little and he looked anywhere but at Ellison. 

Jim went to the door and looked back at Spinster. "Seems to me you've got the first link in a long chain. You'll probably learn more than you ever wanted to know. Good luck." 

"What about Cascade?" The attorney seemed to be genuinely concerned. 

"I'll worry about Cascade. You worry about Texas." Jim left the attorney standing in the semi-dark room, his mouth hanging slightly open. 

* * *

Blair looked at Jim when the detective left the conference room. Sandburg didn't like the look in Jim's eyes and hurried to his side. He touched Jim on the arm, silently questioning his partner. Jim shook his head and continued to LeMing's office, Blair in tow. 

"Where's Rena?" Jim asked softly as he let the two of them into the slightly open door. 

"I put her in a cab, sent her home. She's going to pack a bag and go stay somewhere else for awhile. She doesn't want to be here this afternoon. I don't blame her." 

Jim nodded, then spoke loud enough for LeMing to hear. "Better have the Rangers put a tail on her. We might be pawns in an intricate ploy." 

LeMing looked up from her desk. "What was that, Detective? We have no evidence of Rena Freelow's involvement with her father since she moved into the first foster home." 

Jim nodded. "It wouldn't be the first time that the obvious is just a cover story." Jim summarized the tape he'd seen, then slid into one of the overly cushioned chairs in front of the executive size desk. "If Freelow was pulling strings from inside, his cut of the drug money is going somewhere. I wouldn't be a bit surprised to find a laundered account for his daughter offshore somewhere. Once he's dead, she'll inherit. It may take months, even years for it to surface, but I'm betting that it will. Hope you've got some sharp investigators, LeMing, because this is going to get complicated quickly and probably goes really deep." 

She picked up the phone and looked into Jim's eyes. "Are you sure about this?" 

Blair spoke up. "Trust his instincts. He doesn't read people wrong. There's a reason he has an outstanding record of convictions." Blair positioned himself behind his sentinel and stood there with his arms crossed while Jim relayed his suspicions to the Ranger on the other end of the speaker phone. Ellison met the almond eyes and nodded slightly after the first call. 

A series of phone calls started the wheels in motion. As she hung up the phone the final time, a tap on the door announced Spinster's hesitant presence. He carried the videotape and his briefcase. LeMing motioned him in. 

Spinster gave the detective a wide berth and placed the tape on the corner of LeMing's desk. He looked at the woman standing so confidently behind the oak and walnut furniture and cleared his throat. 

"District Attorney LeMing, I'd like to be a part of this. I've spent my whole career doing the safe and easy cases. I'd like to end it doing something important, something I can look back on with a little sense of accomplishment." 

LeMing nodded. "I'll see what I can do. Leave your card with my assistant." 

They waited as the attorney left the room and gently closed the door. 

"What do you think, Jim?" Blair almost whispered, knowing that the sentinel had listened to more then just the attorney's words. 

"I think he believes he can make a name for himself with this case, on the right side of the law." Jim nodded to LeMing. "I'd let him in on it, at least at the start. He already has an in with Freelow's family. His parents hired him. That must count for something." Jim got back up and looked at LeMing. "What time do we have to be at the prison?" 

"Execution is scheduled for 7 p.m. You need to be there by 6:30." She looked at both of them, then Sandburg alone. "I assume you'll be there?" 

Blair nodded, silently. Jim nodded too. He turned to leave, murmuring over his shoulder. 

"6:30 it is." 

* * *

All the furor and people from earlier were gone and they entered the elevator alone and in peace. As soon as the car started moving, Sandburg turned to his partner. 

"What was on the tape that's made you suspicious?" 

Jim looked at Sandburg with a half crooked smile. "His heartbeat spiked when he mentioned his daughter and the Grand Caymans. He was too -- nonchalant about dying, too sure of what he left behind." Jim glanced at the elevator light, checking the floor they were passing. "What did Rena say once you got her calmed down?" He reached for an auburn curl that had escaped the ponytail and smoothed it behind Blair's ear. 

Blair grinned at the motion and leaned into the touch for a second. "She talked about how her dad seemed really preoccupied with you and didn't have any words for her. I think she was hoping for an apology and maybe reassurances that he loved her. When she didn't get either one it made her realize how much she'd expected to hear it." 

Jim nodded and looked at the floor. "A child ought to be reassured that he's loved by his father." Jim's words were spoken almost to himself but Sandburg heard. Blair reached over and stroked down the length of his partner's face. 

"Your dad does love you, Jim. He just can't say it." 

Jim's head snapped up and his eyes flashed for a moment as the elevator stopped. "Didn't know we were talking about me, Chief." Jim was through the opening doors before Blair could say a word. Sandburg had to hustle to stay with Jim as they headed across the building lobby for the exit. 

"You're the one who said 'he' instead of 'she', man. I know what you were thinking." 

Jim opened the door for Sandburg and followed him through. "Really? Maybe I was thinking of your father, Chief. Ever think of that? You've got one out there you know. I heard what you said to Rena." 

Blair stopped dead in his tracks. He spun around and planted his hand on Ellison's chest, stopping the larger man in mid-stride. "Because you weren't thinking of my father, Jim. My father, who ever he might be, was the furthest thing from your mind. You were thinking how many apologies your father owed you and that he was still alive to offer them." 

Jim glared at his partner. Blair didn't move an inch and glared right back. They stood on the sidewalk, staring at each other; immovable object and irresistible force as people darted around them. 

Jim looked at the sky and took a steadying breath before meeting Sandburg's gaze again. He finally put his hand over the hand on his chest and gripped it, lowering it between them. 

"You know, Chief, it's really scary when you start reading my mind." Jim smiled slightly as Blair relaxed. 

"You're an open book, man. An open book." Blair smiled softly, trying to convey his love to his partner. 

They continued their journey back to the truck in companionable silence, peace reigning between them again. Traffic was building to a dull roar as they pulled away from the parking space and into mid-day traffic. 

"Where to now?" Blair pulled on his sunglasses and lowered his visor against the Texas sun. "This evening isn't going to be fun, no matter how you look at it. I think we need to try to turn this off for the afternoon, try to find something that will distract both of us." 

Jim nodded as he slowed for a light. "I don't know if it is possible to find a distraction that engrossing, but we can try." He glanced at his partner. "Yesterday we did what you wanted to do. Today it's my turn. Let's find a driving range, lunch, and a Par-3 golf course, not necessarily in that order." 

"Your clubs are at the hotel." 

"I'm sure renting a few clubs won't be a problem." Jim looked over at his partner with a smug grin. "You owe me. You promised that one of these days you'd try your hand at golf. Today is as good a day as any, Chief." 

"You just want to pretend those little white defenseless balls belong to a certain convict." Blair said it with a chuckle, even though he knew there was a hint of truth to it. 

"Whatever works, Chief. Get the maps out of the glovebox and find us a decent restaurant near a driving range." 

"You want me to navigate?" Blair looked over his green glasses. "I'm flattered." 

"You think I want you to drive in this traffic?" Jim groaned at the smirk on his partner's face. 

* * *

Lunch was at a deli bar at a driving range overlooking a large golf course. As the men munched their way through salads and sandwiches, Blair people-watched and Jim techniqued-watched. 

Jim didn't get to play often, but he'd played golf since he was a child, long before Tiger Woods started the craze. It was the way a son fit into a country club and a father met the right people. Now, he tried to get to a course when his case load, a sunny day and his schedule cooperated. Which wasn't often. He finished his sandwich and tossed the napkin on his plate. 

"Ready to hit a bucket of balls, Chief?" 

Blair looked at the sparkle in his lover's eyes. If hitting little white balls took Jim's mind off what was going to happen that evening, then he'd hit little white balls. And chase them too, if he had too. 

"Any side wagers, man?" Blair followed Jim to the rental window. 

Jim chuckled at the laughter in Sandburg's face. "Sure, Chief, I bet you $5 that you won't hit a straight ball further than 200 yards." 

Sandburg looked at the flags showing 100, 200, 300 yard designations. "You're on." Blair picked up a club from the rental stand and swung it. Jim looked at the stance and shook his head. 

"Easy money." Jim selected his own club and picked up a heaping bucket of golf balls. He started toward the tee. Blair followed, laughing, but not looking as confident. 

* * *

Jim watched Sandburg from the corner of his eye. His partner had refused any offers of pointers and was stubbornly sending balls in every direction. When he heard Blair curse under his breath, he couldn't ignore the problem any more. 

"Here, Chief, let me help." Jim stepped up behind Blair and wrapped his arms around Blair's. He placed his hands over Blair's on the club and adjusted the grip. "See, you hold it like this and put your feet like this." Jim used his own body to turn his partner and correct Blair's stance. 

Blair resisted the urge to lean back into the unintentional embrace. Jim was all business as he coached, which added to the temptation. 

Jim heard Blair's heart rate increase and the first scent of arousal wafted off the body in his arms. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his chest. "You're so easy, Blair," he whispered into the dark curls. "All I have to do is touch you." 

"Yeah, but if I rubbed my butt against you, you'd be the same way. Bet you'd be hard in a second or two," Blair whispered back. 

"We're in a public place, lover. I'm trying to teach you how to hit a golf ball." Jim chuckled again, inhaling Blair's shampoo scented hair and telling himself to tone down his libido. 

"Uh huh. So teach me already. Else I'm liable to make a public spectacle of us by kissing you." Blair rubbed his butt against the front of Jim's jeans and smiled wickedly over his shoulder. 

"Rain check, Chief." Jim nipped a strand of blowing hair before releasing Blair and stepping back. "Now, look down at the ball when you swing and follow through. Go ahead." 

Blair looked at the 100 yard flag then down at the little ball sitting on the tee. He took a deep breath, let it out, and swung. The ball flew straight for about 75 yards before hitting the ground. 

Jim nodded. "Better. Do it again." 

The second ball did almost the same and Jim adjusted Blair's grip again. The third ball made it to the 100 yard flag. Blair looked at his partner with a huge grin. Jim nodded and smiled his congratulations, then returned to his own practice. 

Jim swung the club with ease, following the white sphere as it flew up and away, sentinel vision making it easy to track its flight. There was something relaxing about feeling the muscles in his shoulders and arms swinging the club, the whack of the ball when it was hit squarely and tracking the flight. Everything else fell away as the activity took over his brain. Jim's face relaxed into an easy smile as another ball sailed close to the 300 yard flag. Yes, this was something he needed to do more often. 

Blair looked over to his partner, who was watching a ball arc through the sky. Jim was smiling, which made him smile. Sandburg lost the ball in the sky but spotted the white object when it hit. The ball bounced at about 300 yards and Blair shook his head. He'd never reach that distance. 

"Don't zone watching the ball, Jim," he whispered, knowing Jim would hear. "I'd have to kiss you to wake you up." 

Jim shot his partner a half-way annoyed glance, then placed another ball on the tee and swung. Blair admired the man's form as the muscles in Jim's arms and back flexed under the tight blue tee shirt. He spotted a few women admiring the taller man as well, pointing and whispering. 

"You're gathering some groupies, Jim. Get ready to be fawned upon." 

Jim looked over at the trio of women who were watching him. He looked at Sandburg and shrugged. "What can I say, if you've got it, flaunt it." 

"Yeah, right." Blair placed a ball on his own tee and swung, totally blowing the swing and watched the ball slice to the right. "What do you say you finish up and we try that Par-3 course you spotted. That's probably my speed." 

Jim swung again and watched the ball as it fell. "I don't know, Chief. Putt-putt seems more like your size right now." 

"Nah, there's no challenge to you there." Blair hit the last ball in his bucket and sighed as it barely cleared the 50 yard flag. He picked up his empty bucket and watched as Jim hit his last ball straight and true. "Maybe you ought to enter some of the golf matches at home. Who knows what you could do." 

Jim shook his head and swung his arm over Blair's shoulder as they went to check in their clubs. "No thanks. For one thing, Simon can beat me on the golf course on any given Sunday, and two, if I started doing something like that, pretty soon my father would be cheering me on and offering to sponsor me. No thanks." 

"Really? Simon plays? Since when?" 

"Since forever." Jim nodded his head to the ladies who were watching them leave, his arm still around Blair's shoulders. "Ladies. Have a good time." 

Blair wrapped his arm around Jim's waist and tucked a finger in a belt loop. The ladies giggled behind them. They climbed in the Explorer and checked the clock. They still had a couple of hours before they had to be at the prison, so Jim drove them to the Par-3 course where Blair's education in golf continued. The afternoon dissolved into laughter time and again as the balls ended up in small water traps, causing Sandburg to have to wade after them or bouncing off trees, which cost him a couple strokes each time. 

By the time they finished the course, Jim was comfortably the winner and Blair was swearing he'd never pick up a golf club again, no matter what the stakes were. Jim just laughed at his partner and promised that when they played together, it would be at the amusement park and the putt-putt course. Blair glared at his partner, but finally dissolved into laughter, admitting that Jim was right. 

The afternoon of companionable play had done wonders for the stress that had been weighing down Jim and mentally relaxed him for the evening to come. They drove back to the hotel to shower and change, holding hands and discussing the physics of hitting a golf ball straight. A couple die-hard reporters were hanging around in the lobby and they ducked them successfully. 

The light was flashing on the phone when they opened the door and Jim listened to messages while Blair peeled out of jeans and sweaty tee shirt. He made a pot of coffee and started the water in the shower. By the time he had the temperature set and slid out of his boxers Jim joined him. 

"Who was on the phone?" Blair ducked his curls under the water. 

"Simon, wanting to know how things were going. A reporter. LeMing reminding us of where we have to be when." Jim picked up the shampoo and poured it in his hands then rubbed it into his hair, followed by Blair's. 

Showering together was something they did often, just for the joy of touching each other and sharing the closeness the confined space required. It was especially appreciated after a day of chases, bumps and bruises. Blair leaned his head into Jim's chest, smiling as the strong fingers rubbed his scalp. 

"You going to call Simon back?" Blair let himself be turned so Jim could rinse his hair. He slicked his hair back and reached for the soap, starting on Jim's chest. 

"Maybe after everything is all over tonight. Nothing much to tell him. Except maybe that you won't be much competition on the golf course." 

"Smartass." Blair lightly tapped Jim's ass cheek. "Turn around and lean against the wall." 

Jim complied and relaxed into Blair's strong hands as his shoulders and back were soaped and massaged. "How do you feel about what we're going to witness tonight?" He felt more than heard Blair's shrug. 

"I'm not sure how I should feel. It's going to be tough, I'll admit that. Since I've been working with you I've seen a lot of death in a lot of different ways. But seeing someone being strapped down and killed, like an animal, that's entirely different." 

Jim turned and gathered his wet partner into his arms. "You don't have to do this, Chief. I appreciate the offer, but it's not necessary." 

Blair looked into the pale blue eyes. He saw the compassion, the love and concern there. He pulled Jim down for a wet kiss, trying to show how he felt with the caress. 

"You're not going alone and that is that. I'm your partner. And partners are there for each other." 

Jim held the wet body tightly. "Thanks, Chief. I wasn't looking forward to going through this alone either, to tell you the truth." 

Blair held Jim close. "I'll always be there when you need me, Jim. Always." 

They finished their shower quickly, got dressed and grabbed coffee mugs on their way out the door. 

* * *

Evening was rapidly falling as they arrived at the prison. A corridor had been established for authorized vehicles and uniformed police patrolled the barricades, keeping protesters at bay. There were several groups, some holding signs and yelling, some holding candles and singing. Another group knelt in prayer, a priest in long robes leading them. 

Sandburg looked out the window of the truck and swallowed. Under other circumstances, he would have been in the middle of the protesters, carrying a sign or candle. And his mother next to him, most likely. He closed his eyes for a moment and thanked whoever was keeping Naomi away from this location. 

Jim showed his ID and the truck rolled past the barricade. Ellison looked over at his partner and correctly read the frown on the young man's face. 

"Kinda different on the other side of the line, isn't it, Chief?" 

"More than you know. I'm just glad Mom's not out there." 

"I hear that. Where is she, anyway?" 

Blair shrugged. "No idea. Last time I heard she was in Mexico." 

Jim nodded. "Good place for her to be right now. No newspapers carrying anything but national headlines and local news." 

They parked the truck where they were directed and a uniform escorted them into the prison and to an office where they met LeMing, Haven and the warden. They were warmly greeted by LeMing and Haven. The warden shook their hands then rushed off, declaring last minute duties. 

Sandburg watched the heavily perspiring man leave. He glanced at LeMing. "He's not coping with this very well, is he?" Blair looked at Jim and cocked an eyebrow. 

Jim shrugged his shoulders just a fraction. He looked at the DA. "What's the procedure?" 

Haven spoke up. "The witnesses will be escorted into a closed room with a large window separating them from the execution chamber. The prisoner will already be in place before the witnesses are brought in. We've found it less traumatic that way. The sentence will be read and the prisoner will be asked if he has any last statements. Once that is accomplished, the team assigned to this procedure in the execution chamber will open the IV and the drugs will be administered. The prisoner is usually unconscious in about a minute. It's usually over in fifteen to seventeen minutes. Once the doctor calls time of death, the witnesses will leave. They will be asked to sign an affidavit that they witnessed the execution and then escorted from the area. A priest will be available if someone needs to talk, as well as a counselor for anyone not comfortable with a religious figure." 

Jim nodded, but his eyes were on Sandburg. He'd heard Blair's heartbeat increase during the explanation, followed by several long deep breaths. Blair was pale and Jim saw a few drops of sweat on his brow. 

"Chief, you okay? You don't have to do this." Jim's first impulse was to keep him from this side of police work. But he couldn't just order Blair to stay in the office. 

Blair closed his eyes for a moment, taking a couple more breaths. He had read the procedure, understood it. But he didn't think it would be so difficult to hear it spoken about so clinically. 

"It's okay, Jim. Just wasn't expecting to hear it explained quite that way. Guess I never really thought about it before this week." He looked at Haven. "Do you ever get used to this?" 

Haven shook his head. "No." He walked to the door and opened it. He looked back over his shoulder as he left. "But I never get used to dead bodies either." The door closed softly. 

LeMing motioned them toward the comfortable chairs in one corner of the office. "Jose' has seen about a dozen of these through. Most of them were people younger than he. Since he's started being a Ranger he gave up drinking, found God and started helping at a Boys and Girls Club. Each time he officiates at one of these, he spends the next day with children, trying to make sure none of them end up here." 

Sandburg nodded and glanced at Jim, who was looking at a painting, his face absolute stone. For a moment he wondered what Jim was hearing, and then decided he really didn't want to know. That didn't stop him from reaching out and laying his hand on Jim's arm. 

Jim looked from the hand to his partner's face, then to LeMing. "I can understand why." To Sandburg, he nodded, eyes revealing that he had been listening to something he didn't really want to hear. 

LeMing played hostess, offering tea and coffee, trying to make small talk about their afternoon that did nothing to ease what was coming. Blair got up and paced in the small office, hands rubbing together as he stopped and stared at each painting on the wall. The art was of pastoral scenes and water images, offering soothing images to the mind. And failing miserably. 

Five slow minutes crawled by and then Haven stuck his head in the door and nodded. LeMing nodded back and looked at the detective and his partner, who were standing shoulder to shoulder, emotions blanked from two pairs of expressive eyes. 

"Ready?" she asked quietly, her own eyes troubled. Then she escorted them to another room, Haven bringing up the rear. 

Sandburg mentally congratulated the designers of the facility they were in as he walked the heavily carpeted floor. The walls were soothing shades of blue and green, large prints of landscapes and big windows looking out on a courtyard filled with grass and trees. Several of the offices they passed contained different religious designations. Soft music drifted from each office. Blair nodded to Jim, knowing his partner had picked up on the significance of the decor. 

LeMing opened the door and gestured them inside. She shook her head at Jim's raised eyebrow. This was not her duty. Blair paused next to Jim, watching his sentinel. Haven brushed by the three of them and entered. Jim's hand on Sandburg's back pushed him into the window-lined conference room. 

Sandburg glanced at the people standing around the perimeter of the room, ignoring the chairs. There were six others, equal numbers of men and women, of mixed races and ages. Sandburg knew that each person here was connected to the case somehow, a family member or friend of a victim, or someone requested by the prisoner. They looked at Sandburg and Haven as they entered, then went back to looking at the glass wall. Blair followed their line of sight and froze at what he saw. 

Jim stepped across the threshold and froze just inside the room. His eyes flowed over the assortment of people in the room, then settled on the glass wall and what was on the other side. 

Blair saw the prisoner, strapped to a gurney, IV in his arm. A man in a dark suit with a white collar was asking Freelow if he had anything he wished to say. The filtered voice was clear over the speakers. The prisoner's face was large on a TV screen and his eyes were open, staring upward. He shook his head. Sandburg pulled his eyes from what he was seeing to look at Ellison. 

Jim was frozen at the door and all the color in his face was draining away. The muscle in his jaw was jumping so fast it trembled. Jim dragged his eyes from the glass to Sandburg. One step brought Blair to Jim's side. He gripped his partner's arm, feeling the muscle under the thin shirt tremble. 

"What are you seeing?" Sandburg whispered for sentinel ears only. 

Jim forced his eyes back to the window. "Look, Chief. Really look." His voice broke and he swallowed hard. "Do you see them?" 

Sandburg tried to relax and let whatever he'd learned about the skills of a shaman, his limited journeys on the spirit plane, and Inchaca's gifts passed to him, guide him to try and see what Jim was staring at. The images finally filled the room on the other side of the glass. As the images wavered and solidified, Blair almost groaned. He looked at Jim, who seemed to be zoned on the images. 

On the other side of the glass, the spirits of people still lingering moved and paced around the perimeter of the chamber. They looked at the proceedings, shaking their heads, and looked out the glass, eyes pleading with the people on the other side. One by one, they seemed to become aware that two people on the other side of the glass saw them. They reached toward the glass, eyes pleading, mouths working. 

Sandburg closed his eyes. He didn't want to see this! When he opened them again, the only people on the other side were the humans still inhabiting this plane of existence. He glanced at Jim, who still seemed to be zoned on what he was seeing. His hand on Jim's forearm gripped tighter until he could feel his nails embedding into the skin underneath. His partner didn't acknowledge the grip. 

After a moment, he released Jim's arm and forced himself to stand still, hands behind him in a relaxed parade rest, and witness what his partner had promised to see through. He tried not to feel his own arms being restrained, a phantom strap across his chest. He refused to acknowledge his imagination filling in the prick in his arm, or the terror racing through his body. 

The doctor in the execution chamber opened the IV and the drugs dripped into the man strapped so securely on the gurney. The man didn't move, and after a few minutes the brown eyes closed for the last time. 

Sandburg swallowed hard, but remained where he was. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jim flinch and blink. Jim looked around the room, then focused on Sandburg. He nodded at Blair's questioning eyebrows. The other witnesses in the room were silent, some mouthing prayers and crossing themselves; a woman had tears in her eyes. The only sounds over the speaker were the murmurs from the doctor as he checked the prisoner's vital signs and pronounced Freelow's time of death. From beginning to end the procedure had taken seventeen minutes. 

Haven moved from his position at the corner of the room where he'd watched the procedure, casting his eyes from the witnesses to the execution. "There's some paperwork you have to sign. If you'll join me at the office you first came in, I'll have it for you in a minute. There are various counselors along the hall if anyone needs or wants to talk to them. Take your time." 

Haven motioned for the group of witnesses to leave and thanked each one of them, shaking each man's hand and hugging each of the women. When the room was empty except for Ellison, Sandburg, and himself, the Texas Ranger studied the two men standing so quietly in the corner of the room nearest the window. Haven glanced through the mirror and saw the doctor draping a sheet over the body. Two guards pushed it from the room. The lights went off in the chamber. 

"You coming?" Haven stood in the open door, eyes focused on Sandburg's still form and bright eyes. 

"In a moment," Sandburg answered for both of them. Jim's eyes were still on the darkened chamber. 

"Do you want me to stay with you?" He looked back and forth between the two men. 

Blair turned and looked at the worried man. He reached inside himself and found a small smile. "We'll join you in the office in a few minutes. Don't worry." 

Haven nodded and pulled the door slowly closed behind him, leaving them in the dimly lit room. Sandburg turned his full attention to Jim now that they were alone. 

"Sit down, Jim, before you fall down." He pulled a chair close and pushed his partner into it, then sagged into another one. He rubbed his hands over his face, then looked at the window again. The lights inside the chamber were dark and all he could see now was the reflection of the room he and Ellison were in. 

"Did we really see what I think we saw?" Blair whispered, his eyes still on the dark glass. 

Jim nodded, cleared his throat. "I think so. I saw... people, milling around in there. Then they looked at us, like they could see us." He faced the glass again. "It was like when I saw Molly. She looked at me, asking for help. She'd been a victim. She was trapped 'between' I think." His eyes locked onto Sandburg's face. "Is that what we saw? People who'd died here, trapped? What does it mean?" 

Blair's eyes were still on the dark window. His mind was spinning frantically, trying to analyze what they had seen. He didn't like where his thoughts were taking him. Souls trapped behind glass, not able to move forward or go back. It was a plot worthy of a horror movie. He pulled his eyes away and looked around the small enclosure, idly noticing how barren it was, except for the window and the chairs. Jim was a stone figure, eyes blankly facing the glass. 

"Do you still see them?" Sandburg whispered, 

Jim nodded, then found his voice again. "They're fading," he whispered. "They seem resigned to their fate, that nothing can be done." Jim turned agonized eyes to his partner. "We've got to do something, Chief. We just can't leave it like this." 

Blair stared at the pleading eyes of his partner, at a loss for what to do. Was there anything they could do? Slowly he turned toward the glass, behind which the spirits still were, even if he could no longer see them. He closed his eyes and tried to find words that might ease... something. "I don't know what to say that will reach you," he spoke to the now invisible spirits. "You were seen tonight, you're not alone. For your unjust death I can only offer my apologies and the apologies of all of us who are trying to do the right thing. I can't correct what happened to you. I'm sorry." Blair looked at the ceiling, blinking back hot tears. "May your souls find peace." He dropped his head and looked deep into his memory for a prayer that would be suitable. 

He turned in time to see Jim raise his eyes from his own silent prayer. Together, they took one final look at the glass window, then silently left the room. 

* * *

Ellison and Sandburg found LeMing and Haven in the small office, sipping tea and talking quietly. They looked up when the partners entered. LeMing studied Jim and frowned. 

"Tea, Detective Ellison?" She pointed to the corner table containing the small pot that was steaming, and two mugs. 

Jim shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. We just need to sign the paperwork and get out of here. Thank you for waiting." 

Haven handed both men a clipboard with affidavits. "Was there a problem, gentlemen?" 

Sandburg shook his head as he scrawled his name on the paper. "We just needed a couple of minutes for reflection." He handed the board back to Haven and looked into the dark eyes. "Nobody should have to face death that way." 

Haven nodded. "I agree." He looked at Jim who remained silent. "For some, this duty is not one that should be repeated." Jim's eyes met Haven's but he didn't answer the comment. 

The team shook hands and left, leaving the office and heading for the lobby. They froze when they saw what was in the parking lot outside of the small lobby. Two uniforms from the prison, keeping the media milling around outside at bay guarded the lobby. 

"Is there another way out? Past all that." Blair nodded toward the media. 

A guard nodded and escorted them down a hall to a dark corridor and a small door. He quickly unlocked it and pointed toward an underground parking garage. "There's an exit on the other side, leads to the back parking lot. You should be able to get past the front crowd that way." 

Blair nodded. "Come on." He took the lead, urging Jim faster as he pushed his partner through the door and following. The parking garage was dark and silent, deserted. Sandburg took Jim's hand and urged him forward, gently talking, keeping him focused on the square of artificial light that was an exit. In minutes they were across the concrete floor and out the door. They exited between large official vehicles and trucks and used them as cover as they made their way to their rental. Blair pushed Jim into the passenger's side of the truck and locked the door before hurrying around and climbing in. He was seriously worried about Jim's mental state. The man was much too quiet for Sandburg's comfort. 

For all the times the sentinel had been thrown by something, he always bounced back in a couple of hours and was ready to deal with whatever the issue was. Now the man stared out the window into the darkness, eyes almost fully dilated, jaw clenched into an iron bar. Sandburg could see the pulse in the long throat, beating a butterfly rhythm against the thin skin. He drove them to their hotel in silence. 

* * *

Jim was aware of being manhandled to the truck, the sound and motion of it moving down the street, the flicker of the streetlights overhead. A part of him was very grateful that his partner was there to take over while his thoughts tumbled around and around, replaying what he'd seen. Was there anything at all he could do? He blinked suddenly, eyes burning from lack of moisture and realized that they were stopping at their temporary home. The engine went silent and he looked at his partner, who was leaning over the wheel. 

"Chief? You okay?" Jim reached out and laid his hand over the fingers still curled over the steering wheel, squeezing. 

Blair sighed and turned his head toward Jim, still resting on the steering wheel. "Long day, man. Not exactly how I'd envisioned this happening. How are you doing?" 

Jim rocked his shoulders in a non-committal shrug. He opened the door and got out. "Come on, Chief. I need a beer and I think you do too." He slammed the door. 

Blair hustled after his partner. When he caught up with Jim, he slipped an arm around his partner's waist and leaned into him for a second as they matched strides. "A beer sounds like an excellent idea. First round is on me." 

* * *

The bar was tucked in the corner of the lobby, behind the elevators. It was a functionally plain room with the required big screen TV playing sports, a polished bar the length of one wall, with a bartender behind it and lots of bottles behind him. A dozen tables for two and bar stools completed it. Jim led his partner to a table furthest away from the TV and in the darkest corner. Their drink order was filled quickly, and Blair held the cold bottle to his head for a moment. Jim watched his partner and then did the same. Jim's action made Sandburg laugh. 

"One way to cool off after a hard day, huh, Chief?" Ellison tried for a joking tone and failed. He took his frosted mug and poured the dark ale into it, tipping the glass gently as he poured. 

Blair nodded but ignored his mug as he took a long draw off the bottle. He sat the bottle down and grabbed the bar menu. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that even with all the turmoil surrounding their evening, lunch had been hours ago. "Plus we forgot dinner. Want to order some snacks?" 

Jim shook his head as he looked down into the foam topped mug. "I don't think I can eat." 

Sandburg glanced up. "A little food will help, Jim. Give you time to gather your thoughts, give me time to gather mine. Then we need to talk about happened. 

Jim pushed the mug away and waved the bartender over and requested water. "I don't know if I can talk about it, Chief. It's not like Molly. There I did something about what I saw. Here..." his voice trailed off. "Here... I just feel so... helpless." 

Sandburg leaned back in his chair. "That means we have to talk this through." When the bartender returned, Sandburg ordered nachos with all the trimmings and a pitcher of water. Alone again, Blair reached out and grabbed Jim's hand. "Take a deep breath, Jim. Close your eyes and breathe." He waited for his sentinel to follow his instructions. "Now tell me what you saw. Take your time." 

"The same thing you saw, Sandburg. So why are you asking me?" Ellison's growl was back and Sandburg felt a little better. Having Jim angry was something he could deal with. 

"I saw shadowy shapes that were people. I didn't see any details. Just... shadows that were moving, walking." 

Jim leaned back in the barrel chair, his eyes meeting Sandburg's before he closed them and forced himself back to the closed room with a one-way mirror. When he had the scene he wanted, he mentally commanded it to freeze and studied it. 

"They were all men, middle-aged or older. All different races, but mostly black. Their eyes... their eyes begged me to help them." Jim whispered just barely loud enough for Blair to hear him. A clang and crash of broken glass startled him and he bolted up right. "Not here, Chief." Jim looked at the bartender and waitress who were cleaning up the mess. "Have them send the nachos to our room. I can't talk about this here." Jim pushed away from the table and stomped out, leaving Blair to deal with the bill and the order. 

Jim walked down the hallway to their room with a sigh of relief for the dark silence. He was alone for a few minutes, long enough to hear the voices from throats long forced to silence. Jim closed his eyes, trying to block the visions as he freed his card from a pocket and slid it through the electronic lock. The room was dark and he walked across it without a light and sagged into a chair near the desk. He didn't move when Blair charged into the room. 

"Don't turn on the lights. Please?" 

Sandburg froze and closed the door gently, throwing the deadbolt. "I'm going to turn on the light in the bathroom and close the door. That'll give me enough to see with." He did as promised, leaving a tiny crack of light. Then he kicked off his shoes and went to Jim's side. Blair knelt next to Jim and waited quietly. 

Jim dropped his hand on Sandburg's shoulder. "Sorry. I couldn't talk about it there. It's hard enough to talk about it period." 

"I know that. I should have thought of that." Blair's hand covered the hand on his shoulder. "Can you talk about it now?" 

Jim sat in the darkness and nodded. "I told you they were all asking me to do something." He turned and stared into Blair's eyes, seeing the fully dilated pupils that were trying to see him in the dark. "But there was nothing I could do. And how do we prevent that from happening to more people, Chief? What do we do?" 

Sandburg got up and paced in the darkness. Jim took pity on him when he stumbled and turned on the lamp over the desk. 

"Jim, what were they wearing? The people you saw." 

Jim flashed a glance at Blair as he got up to answer the door. The bellhop just barely touched the door with his knuckles before Jim was there and taking the tray. He brought it back to the table and uncovered it. 

"What do you mean, how were they dressed? What difference does that make?" 

Blair grabbed a chip and dragged it through the sour cream and guacamole before popping it in his mouth. He paced some more. "Can you give me a clue?" 

The smell of melted cheese and warm chips overcame Jim's reluctance to eat and he pulled a chip free. "Some of them were wearing jeans, couple others long coats, like trail dusters." He closed his eyes, seeing the scene again. "Most of them seemed to be in old clothes, early 1900s maybe. There were some Civil War and Union soldier uniforms." 

"Any prison coveralls?" Blair went to the little 'fridge and came back with two bottles of water. 

Jim nodded as he chewed. "A few. Not that many though." 

A gleam appeared in Sandburg's eyes. "Based on what you just saw, would you say the number of unjust executions have come down?" 

"One is too many, Chief." 

"I know that Jim, I really do. But, knowing things are better than, say a hundred years ago, does that help any?" Blair quietly pleaded. "We can't fix the past, Jim. But we can influence the future. Better forensics is making a difference. DNA testing is making a difference. Better attorneys and judges are making a difference. You are making a difference. What you do and how you do it makes a difference." He grabbed Jim's arms. "In this circumstance, a difference is all we can ask for, Jim. " 

Jim listened to his partner's impassioned words. "So you're saying all I can do is accept the injustices in the past and move on?" 

"Maybe not 'accept' Jim. But use all of your abilities, all of _our_ abilities to keep it from happening again." Blair clapped his partner on the shoulders lightly. "If tilting at this particular windmill would get us somewhere, I'd hand you your lance. But it won't, not here, not in this state. So we go home, and we do what we do best, in Cascade. We protect the tribe, man. And while we're protecting our small corner of the world, maybe we'll find a way to make that small corner better." 

Jim tried not to smile. He loved Blair when he got passionate about an issue. Instead he gathered Sandburg into his arms and held him tight. 

"I love you, Chief. Thanks for being here." He pulled away and kissed the plush lips lightly. "But you haven't said a word about how this evening made you feel. I know you felt something." 

Blair dropped his head and turned away from his lover. "I never want to see that again, Jim. What we're doing is so... wrong. That hit you tonight too. Legally sanctioned execution or murder on the streets, Jim, it's still taking a life." 

Jim sighed. "I know, Blair. But until a better solution comes along, I don't have the answer." He turned away from Sandburg and looked out the window at the hazy night sky. 

Blair shook his head and reached for a chip. "I don't either. There has got to be a way to teach people the consequences of their actions." 

"Blair, that effort has been ongoing since Moses carried the stone tablets down from the mountain. And it will continue long after we're gone." 

Blair looked at his partner. "Are you saying have a little faith?" 

"Sometimes, Chief. Faith is all we have." 

* * *

End


End file.
